Catastrophe
by PlaidButterfly
Summary: After the introduction of a new biological weapon based in Sith Alchemy, the Clone Wars become more brutal - and Anakin's life will never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

**Now I am quietly waiting for  
>the catastrophe of my personality<br>to seem beautiful again,  
>and interesting, and modern.<strong>

_Frank O'Hara, Mayakovsky_

* * *

><p>"You know, your funeral's tomorrow, Ani." Padme brushed back a bit of hair from his face. "They keep asking for me to come speak. A eulogy for the hero with no fear." Her voice shook ever so slightly. "I keep telling them that I'm still recovering, since I caught just... just the edge of that blast."<p>

She paused a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall. The medical equipment gave a soft and steady beep. "You'd be proud of Ahsoka, you know. They say she can barely get out of bed - something about the contaminant they used, how it hits Jedi a lot worse than others - but she still wants to do most of the planning for your funeral. Obi-Wan's taken her as an apprentice. I think... I think they'll be a good team."

Another strong breeze blew in from over the lake, making the curtains flutter. "I haven't told them. I know that's... I know it's selfish of me." Her voice was shaking in earnest now. "I'll wait until you wake up. You can decide how to tell them, when you wake up."

"...if you wake up."

Out on the lake, a Naboo heron gave a call. Its mate answered in a clear and gentle hoot. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flutter of movement, though she didn't turn her head to see if it was the sheer curtains or the birds themselves. The daylilies were starting to bloom, and they gently perfumed the breeze. Padme remembered that when she had last seen them, they were just barely buds. It had been a month and a half since she was last here at the lakehouse.

It had been a month since Ryzea.

Padme had been assured by all the medical experts that memory loss around the source of a traumatic event was a perfectly normal part of emotional and physical processing. She did remember the acrid smell of the grenade as it hit. She distinctly remembered the gunpowder tartness of spent explosives. She had been lucky; there was a wall between her and the blast. Anakin had always made sure she would be protected, whenever he knew she was on the battlefield...

The toxin was clear but she felt it stinging in her eyes. All she saw was Ventress lying on the ground, and Anakin near her, both their sabers still drawn. Anakin's lightsaber had already started to gently bite into the concrete of the droid production floor. She felt her knees going weak, but she had to drag him over, away from the epicenter. There was no time to think of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka in the next room over. There was just a pressing need to run, and she was thankful that her handmaidens, her personal guard, were there - open arms to fall into.

Maybe it had been the Force screaming at her. The second explosion proved her gut right, but she didn't know it until a week later, and not after many smooth and calm voices talking to her about toxicity studies and biochemical agents and kolto instead of bacta...

Padme paused and reached over to gently pet some of the hair out of Anakin's eyes. She had to watch for a few long moments, reassuring herself that his chest was still rising and falling with each soft breath.

"Maybe we've given enough," she murmured, her voice cracking in earnest. "I can... Sabe can take over for me. I'll just edit her speeches every so often. She's already spent years learning to imitate my every move. And you..." Her lip trembled. "They keep saying it will be a miracle if you walk again. Maybe it's - maybe it's enough, to give that much for the Republic."

She gave a small laugh, tears spilling onto her cheeks, before reaching up to wipe them away with the edge of her draping sleeve. "Maybe I just need you to wake up and call me a coward." After a long pause she flung herself at him, clinging to him closely before rolling over on the wide bed to clutch at his arm and nuzzle against his shoulder.

"Perhaps it's all right to dream of running away from this. ...At least, until you wake up."


	2. Chapter 2

Twilight had long passed, but they were still there.

The one positive to planning a funeral without a body was that they were free to delay. There was no worry of decay or embalming. It could simply wait until Ahsoka and Obi-Wan could struggle out of the Jedi medical wing. Ahsoka's body still ached, nerves screaming at her to sit down and stop, and Obi-Wan was already looking forward to more pain medication and a nice soft cot. But neither of them gave in to the pain.

Truthfully, it was only luck that they were even on their feet. Obi-Wan understood it more than Ahsoka did. It was a terrifying new weapon - something designed specifically against Jedi. The induced bacta allergy was manageable only because kolto had been stockpiled for some Jedi knight's research project; coupled with the immediate Separatist blockade of Manaan, it was no coincidence. And the virus had attacked and disabled midi-chlorians. They would recover, of course. The Force, and life, always prevailed. But until then... Obi-Wan was intensely uncomfortable, and he imagined that Ahsoka felt the same. It was not like being suddenly blind. Everyone knew the sensation of closed eyes bringing blackness that was temporary. No, it was much more subtle, like suddenly losing his sense of smell or touch. An overarching numbness. It was slowly coming back, and not quite as jarring as the moment the virus had initially hit them.

Obi-Wan was trying to not brood over that moment. The impact, the acrid smell, the sudden blackness of unconsciousness followed by a clone trooper shaking him awake; reeling, unable to find the Force, barely able to stand; screaming Anakin's name, getting no answer, dragging Ahsoka's body away - dragging Ventress' body to safety after not finding where Anakin's could be. He presumed, at the time, another clone trooper pulled him to safety. And then the second blast hit, the building dissolving into fire and dust. Perhaps if he simply had spent more time searching for Anakin...

But now there was nothing but embers.

There had been a long line of mourners, officials coming to pay respects. The plain bier of wood had initially been built around a set of Anakin's own robes, a symbolic stand-in for his body, but flowers and gifts piled over the wood, covering the plain robes with extravagance straight from the Republic, finally shrouded with a Republic flag. The flames burned brightly and fragrantly at first, then settled into a steady inferno. Now there were a few glowing embers in a pile of ash.

Plo Koon had given Ahsoka the gift of very kind words before going, but even he eventually had other duties to attend to. Now they were simply standing side by side - Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, the two people Anakin had left behind.

Ahsoka was staring dully into the last dull glowing embers before she finally looked up to Obi-Wan.

"What do we do now?"

Obi-Wan gave a solid gulp. After all, he had been through this before with the loss of Qui-Gon. He was supposedly an expert.

"Well." His voice was dry and a little raw. "I think that... perhaps... both of us might benefit from some time away from the Jedi Temple." After a long moment, he added: "Truthfully, I was going to go to Dex's Diner and order one of everything that is fried, and two of everything fried and covered in powdered sugar."

Ahsoka gave a near-audible blink. Obi-Wan had always been meticulous about his diet - not a killjoy, but his indulgences had been carefully measured and considered. He had stared in disbelieving horror whenever Anakin acquired and immediately ate one of the cheap snack cakes he was fond of, and doubly horrified when he saw the ingredients list full of things none of them had a chance of pronouncing (and the claims that said snack cake would keep for up to a century because of all the preservatives found in it).

"Can we order _three_ of everything fried and covered in sugar?"

"Of course."

They were near-silent as they shuffled through the nighttime city streets. It wasn't animosity - at least, not yet. Ahsoka would eventually need somebody or something to be furious at, but right now they were simply too tired. The illness caused by the biological agent still clung to them. Fortunately Dex's Diner was open late into the night, and by the time their first orders came out, they were actually managing to have a conversation. Miraculously, it wasn't even a conversation about Anakin, or the lack of him. Instead Obi-Wan was recounting his first meeting Dex.

Abruptly, Ahsoka's head jerked up, her eyes going suddenly wide. "He's _here_!"

"Ahsoka -"

"He's here, he's not dead, I see him -" she scrambled out of the booth, breathless, heading towards the door. "Anakin! _Anakin!_" She flung the door open, and as Obi-Wan followed her, he spotted what she saw: a man from the back with wavy brown hair. "Hey! Anakin! _Sky Guy!_"

The man finally turned his head an glared at her - his face unshaven, nose hawklike, cheekbones high, brown eyes heavy and dull.

It wasn't Anakin.

"Kriff off," the man barked out, shooing Ahsoka away. She stumbled to a stop, swaying in place. Obi-Wan gently reached out to grab her shoulder, pulling her back inside the diner. Her face had gone dull and slack in expression again, shoulders drooping. When she sat down, her head was immediately buried in her hands, ignoring the food in front of them.

And Obi-Wan let her cry, understanding how necessary it was.


	3. Chapter 3

((And now, a chapter that is… not quite as depressing! It's ok, we'll get back to angst shortly.))

"...so congratulations, Senator."

Padme had been so engrossed in memorizing what the medic had said that his last few sentences completely slipped by her. His probing questions were the best way she had to figure out what the biological weapon exactly did. She wasn't force-sensitive enough for it to hit her as badly as Anakin or another Jedi, but it gave her a sense of what to expect. Dizziness, weakness, muscle failure. No, no headaches, no more fainting fits: she had answered all his questions correctly while making note of what was being asked. That, combined with other information leaked and gleamed, was her best chance to help Anakin. The finest doctors and medical droids were flitting around the lake villa, of course, but any bit of information made her feel a little more in control.

"...Pardon?" She shook her head, blinking rapidly.

"I was saying congratulations." The medic leaned in a little to catch her eye. "On your pregnancy, Senator."

Her jaw dropped very politely, her face going slack. "Uhh...?"

"It was on the routine bloodwork we pulled, double-checking hormone levels. Here, have a look for yourself," the medic said cheerfully, handing her the datapad. "That explains irregular menstruation. I know you hadn't complained of it but a few female Jedi caught in the blast complained of hormonal irregularity. Other than that, your vitals are looking good. Maybe a little more vitamin intake..."

"Um." For once in her life, the Senator was completely speechless, blinking rapidly at the datapad.

Truthfully, she had barely noticed the increasingly large lump of her belly. She had been so focused on Anakin, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that with no senatorial dresses to squeeze into, she had done quite a lot of eating. It was just so _easy_ to sit down beside Anakin with something to eat in her hand, because the foods of home were so comforting. Without his conversation it was especially easy. She had just assumed that it was the natural progression of various pastries she had been shamelessly indulging in.

"You're about two months along, by the way. Perhaps three. It's a bit hard to guess from this bloodwork alone but if you'd like a more thorough analysis, I'd be happy to provide one," the medic continued chattering before he gave her a smile. He was an older man with a greying mustache and a kind smile, and the twinkle in his eye was at least distracting if not soothing. "Quite a bold move, if I do say so, Senator! I admire your spirit!"

"...Uh?"

"Having a child while unmarried, in the middle of your career!" His face turned serious. "Unless this is... unintended? There are several options for -"

"No! No, no - I mean, uh." She was downright dizzy, trying and failing to regain her composure. "No. It's - it's not unwelcome." As soon as the words clumsily tripped out of her mouth, she winced. It was such an awful way to put it, but at the moment the joy and stress - on top of everything else - had completely overloaded her mind. She was used to being able to spin pretty words out of thin air, but right now, everything she said was wrapped up and smothered with stutters.

The medic gave her another bright smile. "Good! Always a joyous thing, a birth. Like I said - a very bold move! I heard that Chancellor Palpatine recently heard a request from some Outer Rim senators for moral reform within the senate itself. Still a somewhat shocking thing in some parts of the galaxy, you know, a single mother. You won't have to worry about your constituents here, of course," he said cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder. "There will likely be some speculation in the gossip rags, but I'm sure you know how to ignore those."

"Speculation?" She said dizzily.

"On who the father is, of course."

"Oh! Oh. Right. Of course. Yes."

The medic gave a deep chuckle, packing away his equipment and giving it to his droid to carry. "Please, Senator, don't look so stressed. You'll be a wonderful mother, I'm sure. Save that vexation for when your child's a teenager!"

"Yes... right... of course."

He had been gone for about five more long minutes, leaving her alone in the room, before her mind seemed to finally wrap around what had just happened. There was exactly one thing to do, and Padme did it. She had to go talk with Anakin. Well - he was still unconscious. Perhaps talk _at_ Anakin. It would still make her feel better.

But first she'd get another slice of cake.


	4. Chapter 4

For all of his other talents, Obi-Wan had to admit that being a liar wasn't one of them.

Oh, he lied quite convincingly, but that was the problem. There was no graceful way to expose the truth after he had lied. Instead he had to carry around the weight of the lie on his shoulders, and it continually pressed down upon him. He could lie: he couldn't be a liar. He could not shed the guilt of it so easily. Ahsoka was already starting to notice the tiredness in his eyes that came from it.

She had also pressed him for details as to where he was going. Obi-Wan understood her nervousness, but he properly soothed her, even though it made him darkly amused that he was considered an expert in such things. He assured her that he would return despite her anxiousness. Fortunately, Plo Koon had been ready and willing to lend a sympathetic ear.

Obi-Wan knew that it was only a matter of time before Ahsoka started to unravel her own memories of the accident, and to wonder about specifics. It was also only a matter of time before Ahsoka had to get angry at something, with her firey nature (that was amazingly like Anakin's), and he knew that he was setting himself up to be hated. He truly didn't mind. If anything, it seemed inevitable.

But for now...

He looked up and sighed as the elevator began climbing up to the skyhook drifting over the Coruscant skyscrapers. It was a pleasant day, and the elevator was transparisteel on nearly all sides, letting the natural light flood in. After all, he was heading up to one of the most expensive pieces of Coruscant estate. The Loornu Institute had a very specific role in Coruscant society, and that was to be a place where the wealthy and elite fled to deal with embarrassing personal problems or end-of-life care. Fortunately the center for recovering addicts was placed well away from the geriatric facilities. But the grounds were lush and beautiful, and the staff was competent. More importantly, they were _discreet_.

Obi-Wan was the sort to patiently accumulate favors, almost despite himself. People offered them in gratitude and then never expected him to actually call them in. This time, well - he had surprised quite a few, immediately demanding aid almost as soon as he could speak after the attack. He was fairly sure that the Loornu Institute had only agreed (and that another Jedi had only asked) because it seemed to be a dying man's last wish. Now that they were stuck following through with his request, well, he couldn't blame them for being slightly aggravated.

Still, he was happy to know she was being looked after.

He was still puzzling out the details from his own murky memories. Immediately after the first blast, he had gone in to try and find Anakin; clone troopers had swarmed in ahead of him. One had yelled something about grabbing General Skywalker, and he assumed it had been done, which was why he dove for Ventress instead of pressing further... why he dragged her out. Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure if it was a true memory or if his imagination was desperately trying to shed some of the blame he had assigned himself. Perhaps it wasn't his fault. Perhaps it was the fault of the clone trooper who didn't get away fast enough before the second blast. Perhaps...

The doors open and fresh air rushed in. He couldn't spend his time wondering about the past, not when reality was there, staring him in the face.

The skyhook had carefully maintained grounds, and purple-blue grass crunched underneath his feet as he purposefully walked off of the broad pathway. He knew where he was going. It was the oldest section of the set of buildings, humble little rooms in sanitary white plastisteel with just enough touches of home to make it palatable. They had also put her in the smallest room, which he understood, and didn't mind.

He stood outside a certain doorway (room 3084, he had already memorized the number) and sighed. Soon enough, Ahsoka would start to unravel it all, and figure out that Asajj Ventress had been dragged to safety; not only had she been dragged to safety, but Ahsoka would figure out his lie. Asajj had managed to be their early warning about the biochemical weapon's induced bacta allergy, that part was true. However, unlike what he had told Ahsoka... she hadn't died.

In fact, Ventress was laying on the bed in the small room.

One of the nurses (a politely neat and bland-looking Pantoran girl) was busy tidying the room. She looked up and gave Obi-Wan a smile. "Good afternoon, Master Kenobi."

"Good afternoon." He paused a moment, looking around the room. Sunlight was streaming in the windows through the carefully manicured gardens. The medical equipment was in working order, chirping with a steady and calm regularity. The hospital blankets had even been accentuated with a colorful quilt over the top, and a few fresh flowers had been placed in the vase by the bed. "Has there been any change, or...?"

"No, sir. She hasn't regained consciousness yet, if that's what you mean. But we have successfully weaned her off of much of the life-support systems," the nurse added hastily, trying to be cheerful. "She's making progress."

For a long moment, he stood at the foot of the bed, looking at her. Without anger contorting her face, Asajj did have a certain beauty about her. If anything she looked almost peaceful in such deep sleep. It had been long enough that her hair was starting to grow in again - black peachfuzz so short it made her look a little like some army brat straight out of boot camp. He hadn't noticed until now how long and delicate her eyelashes were. And someone had managed to match the color of her facial tattoos to one of the patterns in the quilt, obviously assuming dark purple was her favourite color.

It was soothing to see her breathing with deep regularity, and to see the bandage covering her face; it had shrunk since the last time he saw her. A simple explanation: she had been closest to the first blast, and had caught some shrapnel. It was healing well, all things considered.

Obi-Wan merely hoped for her understanding whenever she woke up to find herself disoriented, half-blind, and crippled.

"Would you like to stay a bit, sir?" The nurse said politely. "I can hold off on changing her bandages for a little while..." The Pantoran had even pulled out a chair from the small desk set in the room, angling it to face the bed. It was a very tempting offer, to sit there and talk to Asajj to try and explain, to try and reach her despite her injuries.

But what was there to say?

"No, thank you. I'll be leaving now."


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Anakin knew was the gentle, soothing warmth, coupled with the softness of the blanket against his skin. It was a gentle return to consciousness: he had flirted with such things before, the real world managing to penetrate into his dreams, but now something was bearing him closer to reality, like waves pushing a shipwrecked man onto a beach. Under any other circumstance, his mind would have been filled with blind panic, but here... everything seemed familiar and safe in a strangely innate way.

A breeze picked up, and Anakin took in a deep breath. His eyes were closed but he could tell the windows were open. The beaded ends of the curtains lightly skimmed across the floor, and the heady scent of the outdoors flooded into the room. Reeds rustled against one another, a soft murmur that didn't completely end as it started to rain. The damp earth was its own perfume, solid and fertile - a gentle reintroduction to the real world.

In the distance, there was Padme's voice. "...I thought this kolto injection was identical to naturally-grown?"

"Yes, but in concentrate, it is packaged with a similar media to bacta injections. The preliminary testing we've just done is to ensure there are no harmful reactions to the carrier medium." A medical droid's clear and authoritative voice. It took Anakin a moment to place it.

"If you needed to do any sort of testing, you should have done it on _me_. I was exposed to the same biochemical agent... but there's been no negative reaction, correct?"

"None whatsoever. Vital signs have improved, in fact."

"Good. And the supplies on hand - how many full infusions can be done...?"

Anakin heard, although truthfully, he didn't listen. There were long strings of syllables, the rise and fall of Padme's voice, the flat intonation of the droid's. There were words but he was too tired to couple them together with meaning. It was just like when, on occasion, he would doze off in Padme's apartment at 500 Republica while she practiced a speech to give to the Senate the next day. Trade agreements, federal tax rates, refugee statuses, budget balancing... it was all the same jargon to him, so wrapped up in specialized meaning that it was ultimately meaningless. But he loved the sound of her voice. It was familiar enough to him that he could pick out the tenderness even when she was trying to be as businesslike and serious as possible.

The rain fell gently, a whispering drizzle. Yet another novel comfort. Rain had been mythical on Tatooine, something read of in storybooks, not actually experienced. Part of him considered it new and wondrous even now. Just like Padme's voice. Water falling from the sky and someone who loved him - both of these things were inexplicable and awe-inspiring just as they seemed natural and comfortable.

The bed gave a small creak, calling him back to reality: he felt the mattress shift ever so slightly as Padme sat next to him. Her hand was warm and soft as it caressed his cheek. "I suppose I should close the windows; the rain's picking up." She sucked in a deep breath before admitting: "I miss you, Ani."

It took some effort, but he managed to roll his head ever so slightly, nuzzling against her hand. Her thumb gently caressed his cheek. "Ani?" A small, drowsy smile played on his face as he finally opened his eyes. The world was blurry - it was harder than ever to focus - and the inexplicable tears made the world even blurrier as they stuck to his eyelashes. Padme gave a happy sob as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, pressing her own against his, desperate to be near him.

The strength to talk would come later - soon, but later. Right now he was safe, and that was all that mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

There was no such thing as friendship between Sith. 'Apprentice' and 'master' were far too polite terms for what was essentially a perpetual battle. There could only be one winner. But the pretense still had to be maintained, which was why Dooku was certainly pleased with himself.

Oh, Sidious was bubbling over with fury, to be sure. But it lurked just underneath the surface, because on the face of things, Dooku had been a most loyal apprentice.

He knew Sidious would ask, very soon, for him to do away with Ventress. It was a ritualized power play, forcing Dooku to admit that he was not powerful enough to take on his master, not even with his own apprentice's help. The rule of two would be conserved, ancient traditions would be followed, the status quo preserved. But Dooku had made a preemptive strike. Ventress and Skywalker, in one swift move.

Kenobi, as well. Perhaps not dead, but frightened. Fear was a Sith's greatest power, and Dooku knew just how crippled the Jedi now were. His frustration had been the first step to drive him from the Jedi. They would never admit they were fearful, and so would never confront why they were afraid. It would be up to politicians, pundits and tiresome generals.

And they would lose.

By all accounts, the perfect next move in the intricate dance of the war. The enemy was on the run, frightened, having to re-plan and figure out what came next. But Darth Sidious was _furious_, and it had never been sweeter. The Sith Master had plans, of course. Dooku knew she was a diamond in the rough, but Ventress was ultimately expendable. No, Sidious had plans for Skywalker, and now they were thoroughly ruined.

They had to play at being allies just enough for Sidious to attempt to bite his tongue. Otherwise, Dooku was quite sure that he would be dead by now for killing his potential replacement. The boy was talented. And now the boy was not an issue. Borrowed knowledge of Sith Alchemy, a sophisticated chemical cocktail... it felt wonderful being so certain that Anakin would never bother him again. He had given the boy proper warning, of course, merely slicing off a hand, but he had continued to force the issue.

He may be a Sith, but let no-one say Count Dooku wasn't a _gentleman_.

Despite the fact that the craft was tailored to a droid army, the dreadnought was rather comfortable. Dooku walked down the deck, reaching up to smooth his beard before peering out over the wide observation window. Below, Manaan glowed like a sapphire against the black velvet of a queen's dress. Such an insignificant little planet, suddenly thrust into the limelight. The only source of Kolto... and now the only source of healing available to some Jedi. They were scrambling to try and reclaim the planet, as if that was their only hope. Already the panic had begun, as they were busy retrofitting masks for all Jedi against hazardous materials. The high cost of the bioweapon was moot: they could not have another disaster like that happen again, not when it could cripple the Republic army. And, to his great amusement, there were already calls to have Jedi phased out of the Republic army altogether, citing the fact that they were putting other troops at undue risk.

It was everything Dooku could hope for.

For now the fleet drifted lazily around Manaan, a thorough blockade, making sure that no Republic ship came through. As he watched, there was another bright burst off the port side. Vulture fighters scurried after a smuggler's ship, disabling its engines so that it was left adrift. That was the third one this day, captured with brutal efficiency.

"Bring them on board," Dooku said, tone regal as always. "I wish to interrogate them personally."

After all, it might be advantageous to let the smugglers go to carry on a message... once they were suitably terrified.


	7. Chapter 7

There would come no soft rains on Coruscant. There was at least a pleasant breeze, but Asajj did not pay much attention to it. There was the awful glare of sunlight, and the saccharine sweetness of the fuzzy blankets caressing her shoulders - two things she had rejected long ago. But there was also familiar and oddly comforting pain.

Someone else was in the room, she managed to figure that out - though it was mostly because of the small sound of his snoring. The Force was still bleary and distant in a way that made her feel vulnerable. A small noise escaped from her lips as she clawed her way back to reality. There would be no gentle waves to bear her back to the shore of consciousness. She wouldn't let them.

"Ventress?" Whoever else was there had woken up. The voice was warm and familiar - disarming in a peculiar way. It took her a moment to place it, and by that moment, there was the warm weight of his hand on her shoulder. "...Asajj?"

One deep breath, then another - then in a flurry of movement she scrambled out of the bed. Thankfully the clinic had given her somewhat modest attire. Every fiber of every muscle immediately screamed at her in pain. The world pitched and swayed dizzily. It was all bright light and blurry movement, but among the plain cream and white there was a streak of brown. Robes. Jedi's robes. Brown hair.

General Kenobi.

She sucked in a breath and her lungs burned, body aching. Rest, she needed to rest - her body was about to give out, any moment now. But she pushed it further, reaching out, clawing for the bedside table blindly - grabbing the vase - holding it like a club while she flattened herself against the opposite wall.

Obi-Wan was standing, now, arms out. "Ventress, please - I'm not going to hurt you -"

"Liar!" It was the only thing she could think of to say. But as she bristled, she knew it was true. "_Liar_, get away from me - get _away_ -"

She was all confused fear and pain. Obi-Wan could feel it clearly.

Nobody needed to tell her about the innate danger that came from a woman, weakened and vulnerable, left alone in the same room with a powerful man. Whether or not he would do such a thing was irrelevant. She knew that danger because she had experienced such a thing many times before.

Her voice was raw and strained even as she gasped for air. Obi-Wan took a step forward and she swung the vase wildly as if it would be some sort of protection. The flowers - fresh, brightly-colored marigolds - were tossed out across the room in a neat arc. Half of them were scattered on her bed. The others were on the floor. She did not notice how fresh they were, or how two of them were different from the rest - from the Jedi gardens, not the clinic's.

The world swirled around her again, and she gasped, trying to stay on her feet. The intravenous line feeding into her arm wasn't long enough to reach: it had been torn out of her arm completely. Now a thin line of blood trickled down her arm, winding like a red ribbon around her white flesh.

"Asajj, please." His voice held real and genuine worry. _This_ she noticed, and immediately tried to deny. It was some ruse, some trick... it would have to be. "You're injured, you need to rest -"

There was a soft blur of blue at the doorway - a nurse. The tight knot in her stomach unwound, though not by much. "You're lying," she spat out again, gulping desperately. Her mouth was far too dry to actually spit at him, though she dearly wanted to. "If you - if you brought me here, it's for some _reason_ -" She gasped desperately, almost as if drowning. The mental barricades fell all at once, like dams overwhelmed by flooding waters, and she crumpled to the floor, barking out a sob.

The pain was consuming, smothering, and - most importantly - it was simply pain. She could not find the ability to turn it into anger, to harness it for any greater use. Instead it was paralyzing.

Hands were lifting her up, guiding her back - one pair slim and delicate, the other rough. The nurse and Kenobi, respectively. With a sick sense of fatalism, she waited for one pair, if not both, to take advantage of her current state. Instead the nurse's hands darted around her with professional efficiency, tucking the blanket around her again, hooking up the IV so that medicine started to dull the pain she was fighting against. Kenobi's hand never left her shoulder, despite her fear that it would stray at any moment.

It was rougher than she would have thought. The hand of a man who was not afraid of physical work or constant practice. Someone who understood how mind and body could be unified in lightsaber swordplay. Asajj respected that. She always had, but now it seemed appropriate to admit as such.

"Master Kenobi, I..." The nurse spoke quietly, though nervously.

"I understand. I should go; she will need to rest." The warm weight of his hand left her shoulder. Despite the lingering fear gnawing at her, she felt a dull sense of loss, as if in that short a time she had already gotten used to him being there. "When she next wakes, would you please give her the datapad on the bedside table...?"

"Of course, sir."

"Thank you."

She tried to hold on as long as she could, but as he left, there was nothing more to keep her attention. There was just the pain eroding into exhaustion, and the bone-deep weakness dragging her back down. And so Asajj Ventress slept.


	8. Chapter 8

"And how much did he tell Count Dooku, exactly?"

"Nothing, according to his claims." Sabe spoke smoothly and with a crisp efficiency that matched Padme's own: if anything, it was almost as if she was having a conversation with an out of sync mirror instead of a holo-comm. "Typho has made sure that even if he did tell all he knew, there's not enough information to be traced back to me, least of all to you. Shell corporations within shell corporations."

Padme's lips pursed in thought. "And the cargo?"

"Irrecoverable. But two more smuggling teams have been sent out, and the last shipment of kolto...?"

"Yes, we received it all right." After the second round of kolto injections, more color had returned to Anakin's cheeks; he actually seemed lucid when he woke, now, even though she urged him to rest while he could. Padme was smart enough to keep him in bed while he could be so easily corralled: as soon as he was well enough to think he was all right, he would be up trying to do everything as if he was perfectly fine. With such slim supplies of healing kolto, that would be some time for now. Until then...

Sabe frowned lightly. "When the next shipment is smuggled in, I'm going to have to insist that you take half of the serum for yourself..."

"Absolutely not. Anakin needs it more."

"In your condition - " Sabe glared, making her meaning quite clear. "It's no longer about just your life, anymore..."

"Fine, fine. But certainly not half of the next shipment. A fourth at most."

"That's far too little. You need half of it."

"I certainly do not."

"A third."

"Done." Padme let a small smile creep onto her lips. "You're better at negotiating than I am. The Senate won't be prepared in the least for you."

"Only because I'm riding your coattails, and you know that very well." Sabe smiled back. "I'll be here if you need anything. Be well."

"Of course, Sabe. Be well."

The machine gave a soft click as she terminated the call, and Padme gave a small sigh out of her nose. She wished it wasn't so easy to simply not be bothered about the fact that Anakin's health was coming at the expense of other lives. Just a few years ago she would have been torn, and at least momentarily guilt-ridden. Now... she would certainly say a prayer to some nonspecific deity (she had given up trying to distinguish one from the other long ago in Naboo's varied pantheon). Perhaps she would send some credits to the Brotherhood of Cognizance for the names of the smugglers to be recited in holy chant so that they may be remembered and honored. But it was soothing balm for an injury that had never occurred. Pleasant but not needed.

Anakin was suddenly, startlingly, much more important.

As she went to sit beside him on the bed, he stirred, giving a snuffling deep breath and looking up at her with a drowsy smile. She leaned in to greet him with a kiss, which he happily accepted - and messily returned with a small moan. She gave a small laugh before pulling back and tapping him lightly on the nose. "You're not _that_ strong yet, Anakin."

"It's morale-building?" He still slurred lightly, and his breaths were even and slow. He drifted in and out of sleep less easily these days, but even staying awake and alert thirty minutes was a struggle.

"Give it a little time," she said, kissing his forehead. A light blush was still on her cheeks as she looked aside almost shyly, trying to collect her thoughts into seriousness. "Ani, I needed to talk to you about a few things."

"Hm?" He reached up, playing with the end of her sleeve, unbuttoning it.

"Serious things."

"...like what?" He gave a stifled yawn, though he did look momentarily more seriousness. "If it's about the cottages you were looking at earlier... anywhere is fine, as long as it's with you." His smile was calm and genuine in a way that made her heart melt, and it was very hard to keep from getting distracted.

"No, it's not about that." She gently traced the line of some of the embroidery on his shirt - dressed in typical Naboo fashion, now, instead of looking so much like a Jedi. "I haven't been really... honest with you." Padme gulped solidly. "I know you asked a few days ago about if Obi-Wan had come looking for you. So... about that." His eyebrows knit in confusion. "I haven't quite told them that you're here. In fact, I haven't told them you're alive."

He blinked solidly. "They think I'm dead?"

"Well - yes." She sucked in a breath. "Apparently the service was very nice, and Ahsoka is doing well - Obi-Wan took her as a padawan, and you shouldn't worry about it. I know it's - I know it's dishonest, and I know that you would like to be charging back to the front lines."

"Padme -"

"Please, just listen to me! I promise, I'm not trying to say you are some sort of coward. And I'm certainly not saying you're - you're useless. I love you, Ani. Please understand that. But both of us have done _so much_ for the Republic."

"...Padme -"

"There's no shame about saying that we've done all we can for them. I - I think that the Jedi Order would try to work you to death, Ani, I really do. And right now we need you here, with us, far more than that -"

"_Padme!_" She jumped a little and Anakin looked as if he was about to burst out laughing. "It's all right. You don't need to try to talk me into it." His hand grabbed for hers and gave it a squeeze. "My answer's yes, if you're asking what I think you are."

Padme bit her bottom lip. "So you'll come... run away with me?"

"_Of course_. I already told you yes."

She gave a happy sigh of relief, leaning in and planting another long kiss on him, nuzzling cheek-to-cheek afterwards. It took Anakin a few moments of thought before he spoke again. "Though... when you said 'we'... who did you mean, exactly?"

"Um. Well. That's the _other_ thing I perhaps haven't told you all about..."


	9. Chapter 9

Asajj knew that the next time she saw him, she would call him a coward. But Kenobi had the uncanny ability to pick only the times she was asleep and exhausted to visit. Perhaps she would catch the brown flutter of his robes as he went out of the room. He always left some sort of token in his wake, and she had gone from watching the flowers wilt and die out of spite to finally looking at what he had brought her. The vain part of her took this as him bringing supplicant gifts. Damn right, he had better think of her as a vengeful goddess needing to be appeased!

That and the plate of fried sugar-coated things were quite tasty. Asajj still didn't know what exactly was in the middle of all the breading, but it was very tasty, and she was rather pleased.

But the book... she was having trouble figuring it out.

It gave her something to do while her body ached too much for her to sleep, and she was amused by its quaintness. Flimsiplast pages, bound in leather. It could only be more backwards if it was pulpy paper, and all the ink was written by hand. Instead its manilla pages were printed by machine, and rather elegantly so. A large illustration of a moon reflected in a pool of water sat opposite of a story in whispy script.

_Ryok, a Jedi master, lived the simplest kind of life at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited his hut only to discover there was nothing to steal._

_Ryok returned in time to catch him. "You have come a long way to visit me," he told the thief, "and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift."_

_The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away._

_Ryoken sat naked, watching the moon. "Poor man," he sighed, "I wish I could have given him this beautiful moon."_

In any other circumstance she would have laughed, but it was a story she had listened to before. It was comforting like a raggedy blanket or the smell of home-cooked food. As she ran her fingertips over the slick flimsiplast, the words echoed in her head, but not in her own voice - in Ky Narec's.

Her childhood on Rattatak had not been a pleasant one, but even among the dirt, grime and misery, there had been happy moments. Most of them were after Master Narec had found her, and before his death. Not many other people had such clean divisions between childhood and adulthood, after all.

Ky Narec never had such a book. Instead he simply knew these stories - these old Jedi koans. As they walked from place to place, he would tell her stories, especially at night. She still remembered how he smiled at her confusion over the story. After she had laughed and called it absurd (though in a charmingly innocent, childish way), he had merely smiled knowingly before handing her a bowl of clean, fresh water, and pointing at its reflection.

"See, Asajj? I have given you the moon."

She hadn't quite understood, but she smiled anyway, inner glow of happiness spreading onto her face.

But those times were over, Asajj told herself. Long over. Even if it was harder than ever these days to reach out and find that familiar anger. She had been using it as her source of power for so long that now she felt lost. With the Force lost to her, or at least reduced to a tiny murmur, she was left alone with her own thoughts.

It was more than enough time for her to realize that not only was her own mind a desperately lonely place, but that she didn't like being there.

Gingerly, she ran her fingertips along the top of the book's pages. One page had been heavily dog-eared, and the spine seemed to open to it as if it had sat there for weeks if not years pointing to the same passage. She did not know that it had been a tome of reference to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both. She did not know the book's legacy of being the one possessions of Qui-Gon's that Obi-Wan kept for his own. It was a well-loved book that carried its own gravitas with it, despite her lack of knowledge.

And now the opposite page showed an illustration of two Jedi in plain robes, shuffling along a path.

_In the wilds of Naboo, two Jedi - Tanzin and Eki - were travelling along a path. It was the end of rainy season, and all the pathways were still quite muddy._

_Coming around a bend, they met a lovely woman in an ornate traditional gown. She could not cross a large mud-puddle in their path._

_"Come on, girl," said Tanzin at once. Lifting her with the Force, he carried her over the mud._

_Eki did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple, when he lashed out in irritation."We male Jedi don't go near women," he told Tanzin, "especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous, given our oaths to give up attachment. Why did you do that?"_

_"I left the girl there," said Tanzin. "Are you still carrying her?"_

Asajj traced the words on the page, lingering at the last sentence of the parable.

Her mind drifted on the ebb and flow of her thoughts. Instead of the usual tempest her mind was almost approaching calm. Without the dark side of the Force constantly clawing at her, it was easier to simply focus on the moment. The orange-yellow of the flowers. The soft brown table. The blue walls. The way the wind was shaking the plants outside. There was not anger in those things. They simply were. They merely existed. It was easy to exist along with them.

The words on the page also did not demand anything of her, so she let her hand drift along, tracing them.

She wondered who Obi-Wan might still be carrying.

It was such a pleasant thought that she immediately turned back to the book, flipping madly through the pages to find something to distract her.

_A padawan came to Kei-Sun and complained: "Master, I have an ungovernable temper. How can I cure it?"_

_"You have something very strange," replied Kei-Sun. "Let me see what you have."_

_"Just now I cannot show it to you," replied the other._

_"When can you show it to me?" asked Kei-Sun._

_"It arises unexpectedly," replied the padawan._

_"Then," concluded Kei-Sun, "it must not be your own true nature. If it were, you could show it to me at any time. When you were born you did not have it, and your parents did not give it to you. Think that over."_

It was the first story that, in her mind, was not narrated in Master Narec's voice. Somehow, that made it all much more true.

And it still took three days for Asajj to finally accept how truly grateful she was that Obi-Wan had shared the book with her.


	10. Chapter 10

"Listen, all you gotta tell me is where you want this."

"The kitchen, of course, just as it's written on the box. Where else would it -"

"I don't have the processing power for that. I'm just built to lift. Where you want it?"

Padme smiled as Threepio was sent into another tizzy of flustered complaining. Hiring actual movers would have saved the poor droid a lot of headache, but the moving droids could have their memories wiped. They would not remember Threepio's complaining, nor the location of the villa in the Lake District. There would be a small tickbox checked in their logs: another job done and paid for. But the details would drift away on the wind.

It was a beautiful day, though it was hard to find any time that the Lake District wasn't beautiful. She was looking forward to taking the time to drink in each subtle change. Coruscant remained the same static buzz, a constant hurry and blur that all blended in to one another. Here she could see the grassy plains slowly mature from tender shoots to waving green before mellowing into harvest-brown hay. There was even a pasture across the way - perhaps they'd see the shaak lambing in spring.

Gingerly, her hand reached up to trace along the side of Anakin's face, and he smiled. Easily exhausted as he was, he was basking in the sunshine, glad to be well enough to go outside. The gentle slope cradling the house was a perfect perch to sit and watch the movers. It was beautiful to simply watch him relax, drifting in and out of sleep.

"What do you think about nunas?"

"Mmn?" He drew in a deep breath, opening one eye to look at her.

"Nunas. Maybe just keeping a few in the back. There's enough space for a garden." He leaned into her gentle petting as she traced her fingertips softly across his cheek. "Just two layers can keep the garden free of pests, and we'll be drowning in eggs with just the two of them."

"Lucky that I know how to make scrambled eggs," Anakin said with a drowsy grin.

"Roasting a nuna isn't that hard, either." Padme paused a moment before admitting: "At least, it seems like it wouldn't be that hard. It's, ah... been a little while since I've done much of my own cooking. I hope you don't mind the occasional burned meal."

He reached up, gently placing his hand along her arm. "It's got to be better than pre-packaged Republic meals."

She laughed softly at this. And the wind picked up, dancing around them, lightly perfumed by the scent of blossoms in the fields. Down below them, Threepio flailed at another one of the bulky moving droids. It wouldn't be long until they were finished. The house was by no means a mansion - Padme was fairly confident that her flat at Coruscant had been larger in terms of floorspace. But it was an elegant little house, and most importantly, it was... manageable.

"Ani?" Padme almost held her breath, even as she spoke. "You're... you don't mind this, do you?"

"The house?" He blinked, looking up at her curiously. "No, it's fine. Wonderful." Padme gently pet back his hair from his face, and his blue eyes met her own. Every so often he had the uncanny ability to look not only to her, but past her - into something she was barely aware of. Perhaps it was the look of a Jedi. Obi-Wan always made her nervous with much the same effect. But his eyes... there was a peacefulness there Padme hadn't seen in years.

Truthfully, in being so blinded from the Force, Anakin could see with a greater clarity than ever before. There were no more mists of the Dark Side - and there was nobody there ready to mislead him through the mired swamps. There were no terrifying nightmares to shake him out of sleep and into worrying about Padme. Of course there were long nights when he stayed awake, but the pain was honest and straightforward. It was present reality that could be soothed by Padme's gentle touch, instead of some distant future that he felt responsible for.

That future would press onto them later. There was an unspoken agreement and realization between the two. Sometime - perhaps sometime soon - he would be well enough to start wondering about his burden to the Republic, to the Jedi, and how that agreed with his obligation to Padme. She could at least edit speeches from afar and let Sabe work in her stead. There was no such long-distance work in war.

"Ani, I..."

Gently, his hand wrapped around her wrist, a slow and soft expression - probing with his fingertips where words wouldn't do.

"I know," he murmured gently, and smiled.

And she gave a sigh of relief.

"I realize you haven't seen much of it yet, but you'll like it. Old-fashioned wooden floors, lots of windows. And it's come partially furnished. I know it's two stories, but -"

He squinted into the distance a moment, examining the house as it sat along the hillside sloping downward to the small lake. "...Is that the main bedroom?"

"Mmn-hmm. And once you open up that bay window, it's an amazing view towards the back out towards the swamp. ...And perfect sniper's nest, too, since the other way is covered by the lake. If anything happens I'll be able to pick off any invaders for at least ten clicks before they notice me. Not that it'll happen, but if anything does, this is the most easily defensible house in the entire Lake District."

"...Padme?"

"Yes?"

"This... This is why I love you."

"I love you too, dear."


	11. Chapter 11

"Ahsoka, I'm going out - so you don't worry."

There was no response, and Obi-Wan hesitated at the threshold before stepping backwards. The common-room in the suite between their two bedrooms was quiet and still. Ahsoka wasn't there. It wasn't unusual, even if it was disappointing. There was no reason to stay and look around the apartment in the Jedi Temple. Ahsoka was gone.

And so Obi-Wan shut the door behind him.

He understood perfectly what was going on. It could have been much worse; it could have been much better. The expectation was for the two of them to mend the wound that Anakin left behind. Obi-Wan had already experienced as such. Anakin had been so young and frightened; Obi-Wan had been lost and hurting. They had clung to each other as orphaned brothers. But now... officially, they were Master and Padawan. Obi-Wan diligently made sure he was available for her to talk to, and she listened when he spoke. But there was a formality to all of it.

Instead of turning to each other, they had turned elsewhere. It was healthier in the long-term - for Ahsoka, at least. The togruta stuck around the Halls of Healing, reaching out to Barriss Offee, tempering her wounded anger with a sense of continuity that came from seeing patients slowly recover from day to day. And Ahsoka had started to help teach some of the younglings, guiding them through the basic sets of exercises to unite body and mind and Force. They had reached out and tethered themselves to points of stability. It was just that those points weren't each other.

So, Obi-Wan took his walks.

There was little regular schedule, but as she relaxed, Asajj was always ready to see him. The small supplicant gifts were easy to discuss. Obi-Wan offered her stories about Dex Jettster and powdered-sugar doughnuts without hesitation. When there was silence that needed to be filled, he did so freely. She waited for him to notice the inequality between them, but Obi-Wan continued onwards. She knew so much of Qui-Gon before she gave him a story of Master Narec.

The Loornu Institute had beautiful gardens, immaculately kept, with varying paths through the skyhook's grounds. The paths were meant to be meditative, and when Obi-Wan suggested a walk, Asajj agreed. The shortest path was the easiest. It was also easiest for her to march ahead of him, pushily setting the pace, trying to make him yield to her will. Then the backlash of guilt hit her with her slow emotional transition. She hung behind him, trailing with her head bowed as they shuffled along the stone pathways. And she did not understand when he patiently waited for her, making sure that she did not linger more than a few steps behind.

By the time she was strong enough to limp along the longest pathway, she walked beside him.

"I still can't get used to the sunset view from a skyhook," Asajj admitted.

"If the light strikes just right, it can look quite beautiful. ...but I do have a preference for forest valleys."

"Or rock. There's a mountain range on Rattatak - sedimentary rock - you can see every band clearly for miles. It's... beautiful."

"I would very much like to see it sometime."

The wind picked up around them as the sun dipped a little lower, making Coruscant below them gleam in shining light. The looping pathway was carefully sculpted to frame the view with fresh roses, and a comfortable marble slab served as a bench. Obi-Wan stepped forward to sit down, carefully tucking his arms into his robes. The wind was slightly chilly, and Asajj did the same, tucking her hands underneath her arms and sitting with her ankles hooked underneath the bench.

"Kenobi," she confessed, "you are the most frustrating person I've ever known." Her nostrils flared a moment as she took in a deep breath and pulled out the last remaining dregs of her anger to glare at him. "I can't figure it out. I'm tired of you making me wait. Stop doing this and just _tell me_."

He blinked at her. "Pardon?"

"It's obvious."

"I don't -"

"_Tell me what you want from me._" Her voice shook in frustration. Her pale blue eye - the one remaining, uncovered by bandages - flicked over his face, trying to drink in any small expression, anything that could give her a hint. Her lip trembled in desperation, further begging ready to spill out of her mouth. If it was her body, her mind, her history - anything - she was ready to give it to him.

There was a long moment of silence between them. She waited to see greed or lust or rabid curiosity in his face. After being so used to pain, it was only logical. It was expected. She was bracing herself for it. Something had to be underneath the calm. It had been too good for too long.

"Someone to talk to," Obi-Wan confessed.

"You're lying," she immediately snapped. The wind picked up again and whistled in her ears, and he didn't look away. "You're... not lying...?" Asajj gulped solidly. "You're telling the truth." And it was so very terrifying that she immediately rose from the bench, and turned back onto the path.

"Asajj - please, wait -" As he stood, she started to run, pushing her aching body harder than she had for months. By the time she reached the safety of her room she unraveled into tears. He watched her go before slowly shuffling back up the path, knowing that he could not intrude on the distance she needed to take.

By the time he reached the Jedi Temple, it was night - not that there was much difference in Coruscant between the two. He was tired and ready to be alone, but the light was on in the common room of the suite. Ahsoka was sitting with datapads spread all around her, reviewing an essay that Barriss had recommended to her on the Force and the nature of mercy. She greeted him with a smile. "You're out late." The teasing was only polite and reserved. "Council business?"

"Just out for a walk." Obi-Wan smiled pleasantly. "I'll see you in the morning."

When the morning came, Obi-Wan only poured himself a cup of tea, staring out the window of the kitchenette. Ahsoka greeted him pleasantly. A few words were exchanged that later he couldn't remember. Routine and regular. The expected chatter between Master and Padawan.

"Master Kenobi?" He was putting on his outer robes at the door when she caught his attention. There was a quiet and suspicious sincerity to her next question. "If something important was going on, you would tell me, right?"

"Of course I would, Ahsoka."

They smiled at one another and quietly acknowledged that Obi-Wan was a terrible liar as he stepped out the door.

In a show of true friendship, Dex Jettster managed to consult with Obi-Wan despite the morning rush of commuters. By the time Obi-Wan had settled on an appropriate selection of breakfast foods (sausage rolls as well as beignets, fruit filled and plain), his hair was stringy with sweat from leaning into the greasy spoon's kitchen to talk. The long elevator ride up to the Loornu Institute skyhook was even more awkward than usual as every other individual trapped in the small space glared at him and the scents of the delicious, greasy offering he held. He brought it all the way to her door, knocking quietly and waiting for her to open it.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Good morning."

They stared at each other a long moment, and Asajj gently took the box from him. Their fingers touched during the transfer - the first time they had truly touched. She set the box aside, tucking her hands underneath her arms - defensive, closed. His arms knit together in a similar fashion, hands folded inside his robe. There were so many things to say, and no words that were adequate.

And the movement was so sudden and deliberate - like two magnets suddenly snapping together. Her arms were around him, and his settled in around her in much the same way. The pressure, warmth, and closeness were all immediately soothing - the subtle scent of each others' bodies so close - the cadence of each others' breathing (halted and nervous as they both were). There wasn't room for anything else but honesty.

"Maybe we could go for a walk?" Asajj suggested very quietly.

"I... I would like that. Very much."

From then on, they walked the paths not only side by side, but with fingers intertwined.


	12. Chapter 12

"Ahsoka?"

Barriss Offee peered out of the Temple doorway. The roof gardens were typically lush, situated above the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and the gentle murmur of the rushing waters poured upwards to mingle with the steady babble of the city around them. It was an insulator against the hysteria of the city. Sometimes even an insulator against the hysteria of the mind.

"I'm over here," the togruta called out from the southwestern corner. She was perched in one of the twisting trees, but looked back to give Barriss a smile, tired as it was.

"I didn't see you at dinner..."

Ahsoka grimaced. "Shaak steak and orzo, _again_."

"...so that's why I brought you a nutbutter sandwich instead."

A genuine smile slowly crossed over Ahsoka's face as she took the small package from the other Jedi padawan. "Thanks." The paper wrapper around the sandwich crinkled as Ahsoka pulled it back. "How long have you been looking for me? Or am I starting to get predictable already?"

"Just a lucky guess. That and you had that look on your face all day today."

"What look?"

"The one that means something's bothering you." The leaves of the tree shook a little as Barriss climbed up into the branches as well to perch beside her friend. "So what's wrong?"

Ahsoka swung her legs idly in the air. "It's not... I don't know if wrong is really the word." Nervous energy made her fingers twitch, digging into the bark of the tree. "Something might be going very right. But it's bothering me. Something... really important is happening." She dragged out a flustered sigh. "I just don't know what it is."

Barriss said nothing, merely taking out a thermos and uncorking it. The hot fruit cider's steam was spicy in a comforting way. "Things are happening all the time."

"I mean - _important_things. ...Something that I should know about."

"The Force doesn't owe us an explanation," Barriss teased.

"Someone's _lying_to me," she snapped, voice momentarily hot with anger before she let it out in a sigh, escaping up into the city like steam from the sewers. "I just... I don't know."

"We can't always know, Ahsoka." Barriss took a long sip of the cider, watching Ahsoka's face out of the corner of her eye. "Plenty of gossip, if you'd like to come down to the mess hall regularly, though. Apparently the delegation of two thousand is gaining support, especially with the Jedi Council. With the last few victories, there's been a push to strip Palpatine of his emergency powers... to make things a bit more equal."

Ahsoka pulled a face. "It's a bunch of politics. Whatever's happening out there..." Her blue eyes narrowed, glaring out at the stars (dim as they were through Coruscant's city glow). "It's more important."

"More important than the entire direction of the Republic?"

"Yeah. I just... wish I knew what it was." Ahsoka chewed on her bottom lip. "Thanks for the sandwich, Barriss."

"Anytime. You know, Captain Rex told me that Tango Company is going to be stationed near Coruscant again pretty soon..."

* * *

><p>Truthfully, it had all happened mere hours ago, and Padme couldn't believe on some level that it was finished.<p>

Or perhaps, more accurately, it had just started. Yes, it had been painful. Padme was fairly certain that Threepio was now thoroughly traumatized about the squishy, bloody and messy nature of organics, but the medical droid had been courteous and professional. Even now the doula droid was tucked into a corner, all soothing curves and softly glowing lights, ready to help but not intruding.

Padme was tired, rather expectedly so. It had been nearly nine months - even if it seemed shorter, with everything else that had happened. Now she listened quietly not only to the soft breaths of Anakin, but to two more. Luke and Leia. The fact that they could use both prepared names made Padme smile. Perhaps the twins were a little small, a few weeks early - perhaps the labor had been painful - but now they were all here.

All of them. A family.

It was soothing enough for her to have fallen asleep, but now she was awake again, eyes sliding open. In among the steady cadences of breathing, there was the occasional hitch. Anakin was still doggedly awake, though his eyes were closed. Every so often a breath came in sharply through his clenched teeth. He had pushed himself, refusing to rest, flustered at seeing her in pain. Now she could see the consequences written all over his face - his eyebrows knit, his jaw set. If the twins hadn't been so soundly asleep, Padme was sure Anakin would have been screaming in pain.

"Ani?" He drew in another sharp breath at hearing her voice, and she gently snaked her arm across the bed. As her fingers touched his cheek, he opened his eyes. "Ani, love..."

"I'm fine. It's all right." There was a trembling roughness to his voice even as he gave her a lopsided smile. "You should rest..."

Her thumb gently traced the scar below his eye, and his eyes fluttered closed again. "How long has it been since you took any pain medicine?"

"I'm not going to miss any moment of this - of _us_- "

"_Ani._"

She could see his shoulders trembling as he took in a deep breath, but her tone was serious enough that he didn't immediately try to argue back. Instead he shifted gently on the bed, one arm hooking back into her hair to bring her a little closer, the other draped loosely over the swaddled infants. One of them (likely Leia, Padme was fairly, though not entirely, sure) gave a soft coo before drifting back to sleep. Padme reached out to gently pet Anakin's arm, watching his shoulders shake, but the touch was all that needed to be said between them.

Slowly, with each gentle press of her fingertips, she eroded his stubborn pride. He had doggedly tried to be her support for as long as possible, and now - slowly - he relaxed into letting her help him. It was something that never would have happened on Mustafar; it was a notion that Anakin would have been talked out of by Palpatine.

But now Anakin's face slowly slackened, and his breathing evened out as Padme watched. Luke gave a whining coo and nuzzled lightly towards the warmth of his father's arm. When the pre-dawn light slid in the window to cover the wide bed like a blanket, Padme was back asleep - their first night together as a family.


	13. Chapter 13

Obi-Wan had expected Asajj to continue to be typically headstrong. He _hadn't_ expected to be halfway to the Loornu Institute when he got a comm message from the Jedi Temple. He also hadn't expected the traffic to be so heavy on the way back. By the time he reached the inner halls, he was trying to hurry in the most dignified way he could, plain brown robes billowing out behind him as he walked.

There was no way to be gracefully late to a meeting of the Jedi Council. The doors slid open and Obi-Wan held his breath.

In the middle of the room was Asajj, council members staring her down critically. Fortunately it was not a full meeting of the Jedi Council, but with Yoda and Mace Windu in attendance, the two most intimidating members were there. Saesee Tiin stared her down less critically, his hands knitted in front of him; Plo Koon was relaxing back in his chair. Windu was leaning forward, hands clasped in front of him, and Yoda was merely clutching his walking stick with an air of serenity. Stass Allie was actually smiling graciously. Body language alone made Obi-Wan sigh in relief as he snuck into the room, trying to make his way to his chair.

Asajj didn't notice: in fact, she didn't even raise her head. She was kneeling in the center of the chamber, head bowed. It was a powerfully subservient gesture. From the roughness in her voice, it was obvious she had been talking for awhile. "...And I realize that it is not my place to ask for favors. But all I can ask for is to make it quick."

Yoda's hands knit around the edge of his walking staff, readjusting momentarily before the small Jedi Master hopped down from his chair. Asajj kept her head bowed, eyebrows knit as she tried to keep her breathing calm. But as Yoda drew closer she did flinch as if bracing for a blow. The rest of the Council seemed to be engaged in a silent conversation - glancing back and forth. Windu's expression was inscrutable as always, but he gave a very small nod that Plo Koon echoed; Stass Allie relaxed back into her seat and her smile grew a little kinder.

And Asajj waited patiently, still wincing quietly. After a few very long breaths, her eyes opened, and after a few blinks she looked towards Yoda out of the corner of her eye. "You... aren't going to kill me?"

"Hmm. Kill you, why should we?"

"I..." Asajj gaped a little in surprise. "I've killed countless Jedi. I've lived almost my entire life serving the Dark Side. I _deserve_ to die for what I've done."

Yoda tapped his walking stick on the floor a moment in thought before smiling. "About what you deserve mercy is not. Forgiving, the light is, as merciless as the dark. Your first and most important lesson, this shall be."

"Master Kenobi." Obi-Wan jumped a little as Mace Windu addressed him. "If you are prepared to vouch for this woman, the Council is willing to officially accept her as a ward of the Jedi and pardon her of her crimes. Are you willing to testify that her return to the Light is genuine?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Then satisfied, this Council is." Yoda nodded sagely, and Asajj slowly raised her head, eyes wide. "Dismissed, you are. Set straight later, the details will be." At the wave of the Grand Master's wizened green hand, the rest of the Council stood, each of them immediately launching into their own separate pieces of business. Asajj herself remained crouched in a low bow, not getting up until Obi-Wan offered a hand out to her.

"I wasn't quite expecting that," she admitted, sounding somewhat flustered.

"Master Yoda has a talent for the unexpected." It took a few moments for Asajj to relax enough to return his gentle smile. "Though, speaking of which - I thought you were going to take at least two more weeks to recover..."

"It needed to be done." Her shoulders were already starting to shake lightly in pain, and Obi-Wan reached out to rest a hand on her upper arm in a silent gesture of sympathy. With the council chambers now eerily quiet, they turned to leave together, and he was sure to match her slow and somewhat pained pace. She let his hand slip down a little, taking it and lacing her fingers in-between his own. It was a dangerous move to walk so boldly, but he knew which corridors were quiet and deserted at that time of day.

They walked in silence for awhile before Obi-Wan gently squeezed her hand, catching her attention. "I was coming to see you, actually. I have something of yours." As he reached into his robes to find an inner pocket, her eyes widened curiously. "Truthfully, I shouldn't have taken it. At the time I acted out of petty retaliation, and for that, I apologize. Now I've come to realize how much this must mean to you."

Gingerly, he pulled out a small metal cylinder - a lightsaber of plain and practical make. A rough leather band wrapped around the handle, still stained with sweat. It was unassuming, but incredibly precious, from the way Obi-Wan gave it to her delicately and the way she accepted it as if it were so fragile a mere breath might tear it apart.

"Master Narec's lightsaber. ...Thank you." Her voice shook momentarily with emotion before she gave a small smile and half-laugh. "I tortured you for weeks, and you apologize to _me_ for taking a weapon you used to fight your way out?"

"Well, I suppose when you put it like that..."

"...it's no wonder I came to think all Jedi were terminally stupid," she teased slyly before looking back down to the lightsaber in her hands and then clutching it to her chest for a moment. Silently, she reached down to clip it on her belt. It was just as plain and practical as the rest of her clothing: in fact, with the patch over one eye and scars still up and down her face, it was very easy to assume she was just another smuggler instead of someone so talented in the Force. But the lightsaber seemed as if it belonged at her hip, in sharp contrast to the showy curved Sith lightsabers everyone had come to associate with her. Obi-Wan noticed this, and smiled gently at her. She smiled back.

"Do you have enough time for a walk?"

"Yes - I think I do."


	14. Chapter 14

With Ahsoka away on a training mission with Barriss Offee, the small apartment was empty save for Obi-Wan. After walking around the gardens, it became clear to both of them that although Asajj had been offered the mercy of life, she would never truly be part of the Jedi Temple. The best she could perhaps hope for was a position in the Agricorps, and even then, that would only be after years of effort. She would never be knighted. She would never take a padawan - or be formally assigned a master. She would merely be stuck in limbo, kept close just in case. It was a purgatory she felt she deserved, but purgatory nonetheless.

"In a few years, when the war dies down, I'd be happy to bring the matter up with the council. If Master Quinlan Vos can work so closely as a double-agent - well, plenty of other Jedi have fallen to the dark side and found their way back..."

"Plenty of other Jedi didn't slaughter thousands." Asajj sighed, slowly walking around the small apartment's common room. "Besides, I'm not even sure they would accept my training under Master Narec."

"I helped talk them into letting me train Anakin, despite both my youth _and_ his age."

"I think I missed my chance to use kath-puppy-eyes on the council. ...and I doubt that would work on Mace Windu, anyway." Asajj laughed softly, giving a crooked smile. It was an expression that Obi-Wan still cherished every time it crossed her face.

The wide bay window opened up into a beautiful view of the city skyline, and Obi-Wan slowly moved to stand beside her, looking out. "I'm not so sure it would be a bad life, if I could stay here. Surely they wouldn't object to one Jedi talking with another. Knighthood is... only a ritual at heart." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I'm sure the... interim government on Rattatak will be fine without me. They have been for years, after all. If I could stay here with you..."

"I could find an empty apartment somewhere in the Temple. Perhaps with a roommate to start out with, but -" Obi-Wan turned his head, and was promptly cut off.

The first kiss Asajj pressed to his lips was somewhat shy. But she pulled away, pausing for a long moment, both of them feeling the heat of each others' breath on their faces. The second kiss was much deeper, Obi-Wan opening his mouth willingly to let her tongue explore. The third kiss made a needy, keening whine escape from Asajj's nose. By the time they finally pulled away again, Obi-Wan gasped, panting as if his head had been held underwater, stumbling back to lean against the bay window seat. Asajj wasted no time pursuing him, kissing his cheek; as she worked her way down, he leaned his head back, exposing his neck to her in a powerfully primal gesture of trust.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Obi-Wan sighed in a tone that suggested he felt obligated to say as such but wasn't going to want to stop anytime soon. His roaming hands just confirmed this.

"You know I'm bad at following rules," Asajj murmured before letting her teeth graze against the tender skin of his neck again.

A long sigh rolled out of him along with the last of his misgivings, and he reached out to pull her closer with a distinct rough tenderness. They had fallen into another long kiss when the door to the apartment slid open.

"Master Kenobi, we're back from Felucia early, and -" Ahsoka's voice started out cheerful before she stopped with a choke, eyes going wide. Asajj hastily pulled away from Obi-Wan, stepping back but unwilling to let go of Obi-Wan, her hand still at his waist. Ahsoka stared, eyelids fluttering, her breaths growing deeper in anger before a scream exploded from her. "_WHAT THE KRIFFING HELL IS SHE DOING HERE?_"

"Ahsoka, I - I can explain -"

"Is THIS what you've been doing? Sneaking out and - and being with _her_ in the middle of the night? _I'm supposed to be your padawan_, and you're - you're choosing this _sith WHORE_ instead!" Her voice rose in strangled anger. "_I trusted you, Obi-Wan!_ I **trusted** you!"

"Ahsoka, wait -"

Fortunately, she turned and walked back out the door, slamming it as best she could. The silence she left behind was deafening.

Asajj was the first to break it. "Well. That went better than I expected," she whispered.

"Better?"

"She didn't actually try to kill me."

"...Ah."

Her hand was still on his waist, though their expressions had both sobered somewhat. "She's right, you know," she said softly.

"I know." After a long moment he turned to pull her into a tight embrace which she returned. When he next spoke, his voice was very soft, tender in a wounded sort of way. "Just... just tonight, together. Then we'll go our separate ways, and do what we must."

"You know that even after tonight, I won't stop loving you."

"I know." He squeezed her a little more tightly before confessing: "And I'll still love you."

But at least they had one night.


	15. Chapter 15

"Disappointing," Master Yoda said.

Obi-Wan had started preparing before the dawn. Asajj had slipped out with one final kiss, leaving him alone to watch the pre-dawn glow. He didn't have time to sit and stare at it and clear his mind. He had to prepare what to say, and perhaps more importantly, which favors to call in. A few quiet holocomm calls, and he made sure that she had a clear way.

Later in the morning, Asajj Ventress would present herself to the Senate as Empress of Rattatak. Her shabby clothes would draw stares from the other senators. She would not look the part of a diplomat or an Empress but instead a smuggler someone let in by mistake. But she would approach them with the same humbleness, and offer the Senate at large the surrender of her planet and her people. In the hallway she would pass the recently deposed former High Chancellor Palpatine. They would share a long glance and she would struggle to keep her face straight. But under the benevolent gaze of the new Chancellor Bail Organa, she would bow low, and beg for mercy, but justify the need for mercy: there was an extensive droid factory on Rattatak, and its resources and intelligence would be the Republic's. A motion to accept her surrender would be proposed by the senator from Chandrila, and carried by the human senator from Naboo (who would be in the senate, a rarity these days, and understandably hidden behind the heavy makeup that seemed to be traditional). The resolution would easily pass. Then Asajj would be on a Republic cruiser with a small attachment of clone troopers before there was even time for her to grab any lunch. It would be the start of an uneventful trip wherein the troopers would be amazed at how pleasantly quiet Ventress was, and would not know what to make of her, a traitor yet now on their side, a warrior who had slaughtered their brothers by the hundreds but was now eating in the same mess hall; they would not figure it out by the time they arrived on Rattatak.

But that would be later.

Now Obi-Wan was standing before the Council. He had called them together because they would find out one way or another; Ahsoka would have turned to either Plo Koon, who was on the Council, or Barriss Offee, who had enough love of regulations to be properly shocked and report his behavior. His own seat in the large room was empty - instead all eyes were fixed upon him as he stood in the middle. He confessed everything. He acknowledged his attachment, emotional, carnal, intellectual, and apologized for it in humble repentance. He avowed his fallen status, and offered his resignation from the Council - at least a temporary hiatus as he found his way back to the path.

"Disappointing," Yoda said.

Obi-Wan was not sure whether the Jedi Master said this because Obi-Wan had strayed from the Code, or because he acquiesced so quickly in the face of adversity and did not fight to keep his love.

"You are dismissed, Master Kenobi. We must deliberate whether to accept your resignation from the Council, and what sanctions may be appropriate."

He bowed low, turned, and left.

Ahsoka was waiting for him just outside the doorway, biting her lip and looking pained. Truthfully, at some point during the night, her anger had waned. She had tolerated, or even tacitly approved, of Anakin's relationship with Senator Amidala. And she had felt no bitterness or anger still clinging to Ventress. The awful possibility of true love was one she couldn't ignore. If Obi-Wan was right - if what she had seen was genuine - then she realized it was petty of her to deny one Master what she had encouraged in another Master. Besides, hatred was unbecoming for a Jedi. It was a chance to prove that she was ultimately better than Ventress, and that was appealing.

She was about to speak when he cut her off by bowing low. "Ahsoka - last night, you were completely right. My selfishness has hurt you, and your progress as a Jedi. I betrayed your trust. I can only hope that you will accept my forgiveness." There was a deep undercurrent of sadness, though Ahsoka couldn't place why.

"I... I didn't..." She gulped solidly. "Sure. Yeah. It's okay."

He straightened and gave her a small relieved smile, and she saw the look in his eyes. He had surrendered the thought that he deserved happiness, and sacrificed it for duty. There was no struggle, no want, no seeking desire anymore. There was simply resignation that his life would be serving others - always someone else, and never himself. A forced selflessness. He had given up.

And her heart sunk.

Despite her hatred of Ventress, for a moment she wanted nothing more than to yell at him to chase her down, to fight against the chaste Jedi lifestyle and do something that made him happy, something dramatic, something showy - more than just powdered donuts at Dexter's Diner. But the words choked in her throat even as she reached out to grab his arm in a sympathetic manner.

Something was gone even in that simple touch. Before they had been friends through the mutual connection of Anakin, and the void he left behind. Now there was something dead and clinical about it. Merely Master and Padawan, student and teacher.

Later Ahsoka would find a quiet corner and sob about the intangible something she had accidentally killed. There was no way Barriss would understand her approval, not when she tried to explain it. Perhaps Plo Koon would understand, or would at least have been able to watch her cry and help her, given the fact that he was the closest thing she had to a father. But he would feel indebted to try to fix the situation, to talk to Obi-Wan and try to convince him. But some things could not be so easily fixed.

"I understand you've been having trouble with set twenty-six of Jar'Kai, utilizing your shoto. If you would like some help, I can look at your form...?" It was a friendly offer, but one that was merely what any Master would extend to a Padawan.

"I'd appreciate that, Master Kenobi, thank you," she said, because there was nothing else to say.


	16. Chapter 16

"Do all of the recipes Obi-Wan taught you start with Bantha bacon?"

"Only the ones worth cooking," Anakin replied, grinning widely and raising up the skillet to neatly flip the bacon there within it. Padme laughed a little and put her hand around his waist, leaning against him. When it came to cooking, it seemed Anakin was the one most at home with making basic, humble foods; Padme found herself too easily caught up in trying to make everything perfect, attempting gourmet recipes that were certainly tasty but often left Anakin to a loss as to what exactly they were eating - whenever Padme got the chance to cook.

This morning, though, was an exception - a large breakfast as a sendoff before Padme went on a day-trip. Her parents were one of the few let in on the secret, and their begging for pictures of their grandchildren was reaching near-critical levels. Fortunately Anakin was having a string of better days. It seemed inevitable that any day there would be another setback that would leave him bedridden in miserable pain, but for now, he had the strength and energy to venture downstairs - and even to cook breakfast.

Still, Padme worried, nervously clutching his arm. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"We'll be fine," he soothed. "You know if I get completely tired out, Threepio and the nanny droid can always step in to help."

"I know, I know. I just hate relying on droids," Padme sighed. One more promise to herself that she had broken, even if she was becoming increasingly comfortable with the fact that parenthood was a series of compromises between ambition and reality. Pre-packaged meals, nanny droids and holovids for entertainment would sometimes have to do. Anakin gave her a reassuring kiss on the top of her head before going back to breakfast.

Behind them there was the steady, shrieky giggle of Luke and Leia playing, coupled with the sound of their footsteps. Anakin thought that they were perhaps moving so quickly there actually was a noticeable doppler effect.

"I thought we weren't going to let them run through the kitchen?" Padme asked curiously.

"I'll start worrying when one of them actually enters hyperspace." This made Padme laugh gently, letting go of his arm as he took the bacon out of the pan, cracking a few fresh numa eggs into it. They sizzled pleasantly, and Padme went to fix herself another cup of tea.

The spoon clinked against the cup as she mixed in some milk, glancing up at Anakin. "You're absolutely sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"You know that I'll set up the comm line, and you can call me any time. It's only a two hour trip..."

He turned to grab her lightly by the shoulders, smiling at her. "I'm fine. I really am." She gave a small sigh as he gathered her up into a hug. He was still much more thin than she remembered - illness had stripped him of weight, muscles shrinking as they went unused. But he was still her Anakin, and she nuzzled against his chest as if momentarily hiding there.

Then there was a loud crash from the opposite room.

"Are they throwing things off the couch again to see if they bounce?"

"Probably."

Padme sighed, pulling away. "I'll go gather them up for breakfast."

By the time she managed to herd the two bouncing toddlers to the table, the eggs were done, and Anakin made his way out of the kitchen with the pan in-hand, scooping an egg onto each plate. He was even humming a little, the slab of cooked bacon hanging out of his mouth as he had obviously laid claim to eating it. Padme gave him a sneaky look before leaning over to take a bite, half pulling it away from him but managing to get a nice mouthful of the bacon. Anakin outright pouted at her. "Hey! House rule that the cook gets to eat the bacon." Padme just grinned in a manner that she knew left Anakin completely defenseless - and as usual, it worked.

Luke immediately busied himself trying to eat clumsily, while Leia was suspiciously quiet. Padme caught her expression out of the corner of her eye.

"Now, you two will be good for Daddy today, right?"

"Mmn-huh," Luke answered promptly before busying himself with attempting to eat his breakfast (and mostly just getting egg yolk all over his face). It took Leia a moment before she shook her head yes as well.

"No more seeing if things bounce."

Leia pouted outright at this, and nibbled sulkily at her breakfast. Fortunately by the time the meal was done, they were both in high spirits once more, holding one of their conversations that Anakin, for all his concentrating, could only catch a third of what they were saying. Then again, it made a certain amount of sense that the twins had their own language before they fully picked up on Basic...

It was after lunch - and after Anakin had caught a short nap - that Anakin came up with what he thought was a brilliant idea. It took the twins a moment to notice that he was gone while they were distracted with their toys, and they wandered into the kitchen curiously after him. "Do you two want to make something nice for Mom when she comes back?"

The two very carefully considered this, and Anakin elaborated: "We can make her cookies?"

Immediate excitement - the both of them jumping up and down. A mere few moments later, Anakin wasn't sure whether they were making cookies or a very big mess. Apparently flour was now an incredibly fun thing. "Up!" Leia demanded, arms outstretched.

Anakin laughed and relented. "All right, all right... don't fall, all right?" He placed her to stand on the counter, where she immediately started opening the cabinets, grinning wide. "You can pick out what you want to go in our cookies." Luke shyly tugged at Anakin's trouser leg, and he reached down, placing the boy on his shoulders. "First we have to make the cookies, okay? We need two of those, and... here, you can crack them like this. ...Eggs go _in_ the bowl, Leia -" He bit back another laugh. "What do we want in them?"

"Those!" Luke pointed excitedly.

"Maple chips? Yeah, that'll be good. What do you want to put in, Leia?"

"Things!" she chirped enigmatically, wearing a happy smile as she started to simply pull things out of the cabinets and pour them into the bowl. Marshmellow fluffies - that made sense. Cocoa chips... dried kjuni berries... good so far. ...but cereal?

"I don't know if those go in cookies, Leia," he said, looking doubtful.

"Whhhyyy-yy?" She pouted.

"Well, I... You know, they can go in cookies. Anything you like." The little girl gave a happy squeal and flung the cabinets open wide once more.

Several hours later, with most of the mess cleaned up and the smell of baked goods still hanging in the air, Padme opened the front door. The lights were off, and all was quiet, though in a thankfully peaceful sort of way. Anakin opened one eye from where he had dozed off, very carefully extricating himself from where his children had curled up on top of him to sleep. Padme was busily setting down her bags and taking off her coat when Anakin called out to her.

"Padme, I have some bad news," he said mournfully, standing in the doorway.

"What? What is it? What's happened?" She squeaked, immediately flustered. "Are they hurt? Are _you_ hurt? What's -"

He planted his hands on her shoulders, his sadness obviously overdone. "I'm afraid that our children will never be professional chefs."

"...What -?"

"Just - here." He pulled a cookie from where it had been carefully wrapped up in a napkin.

Very carefully, she pulled back the napkin and gave it a sniff. "Oh... dear. Is there any cookie left in this cookie?"

"Pretty debatable. I at least stopped Leia from putting in the smoked tarpin-fish flakes." Anakin grinned. "And you have two dozen of them."

Padme's eyebrows raised. "Two dozen?"

"Yep, two dozen. I suggest that they, uh, get eaten. By monsters. The same monsters that live in the basement, or something. ...And don't look at me like that. They were special cookies just for Mom. I could only eat one," Anakin said sagely.

"...And you ate it?"

"Yep."

Both of them looked at each other, trying to bite back laughter to keep from waking their children. It only got worse as Padme commented slyly: "Well, I suppose being a parent is all about sacrifice..."


	17. Chapter 17

In only a few months, the Council declared there was no more that Ahsoka could learn from Obi-Wan, and declared her a knight in earnest. She returned to the war, even in a relatively distant role, helping the new clones on Kamino learn how to operate under a Jedi's command. Obi-Wan did exactly what a Master needed to do for a Padawan... no less, and no more.

And that left Obi-Wan alone.

Luminara Unduli was the first to go to him directly, expressing concern. Even Yoda came and meditated with him awhile. As usual the minute Jedi Master did not speak his mind, but merely observed, noting how Obi-Wan was focusing merely on existing. Quinlan Vos outright cornered him after seeing the spiral continue. In whispered voices, he urged Obi-Wan to do the unthinkable - to break the Jedi Code and go to his lover outright.

Obi-Wan thanked them all, and told them that he was fine.

After all, if he told himself that, perhaps he would start to believe it. The day was simply going through motions. Meditation. Combat practice. Physical training. He survived, trying to block out the entire world. It was a disinterest that settled in over him, into every aspect of his life. The way he held his lightsaber became mechanical. He recited the meditation chants by rote. He even switched from enjoying the prepared meals to simply existing off of pre-packaged, bland nutrition bars.

Sometimes, he wandered out into the city. Coruscant was so large that sometimes he would simply be gone for days, barely sleeping, barely eating. The movement and flow of the crowd was intoxicating. He let himself be carried by the tide. Businessmen pushing along onto the train. The labyrinth of various complexes. Plaza to plaza, through tunnels and skyways. Everyone had their own business to attend to: a flood of different emotions, some happy and some sad, each of them driven with purpose.

He watched them come and go, and he wondered how he could manage to be so terribly lonely when surrounded by a multitude.

And while he tried to forget himself, there were duties. He was the very model of a Jedi's impartial justice and peaceful countenance, but always in a distant sort of way. Each day had a surreal quality, as if he were increasingly not himself, but merely someone passively observing what Obi-Wan, the model Jedi, should be doing.

Today's task did not make it any easier.

"...The number four holds special significance in Naboo culture. I appreciate that this must be difficult for you, Master Kenobi." Senator Amidala was gracious as usual, sweeping around her office in heavy makeup and an elaborate headdress. She had been an active voice and a friend to the Jedi in the Senate, so it was only polite for them to return the favor.

The senator's office was very plush and comfortable, Obi-Wan had to admit. It was tastefully decorated, and the view of the city was beautiful through her window. It was a luxury rarely seen in the Jedi temple - not reserved for individuals, at least. He was content, for the moment, to let her explain, and he merely nodded. "It's fine, Senator. I am happy to be of service."

"We would like the chance to perform a memorial ceremony for General Skywalker. As an appreciation of his service, of course, along with all the other Jedi who have helped Naboo through the years." He looked at her face, but not in her eyes, looking over the makeup. The design was intricate - he knew there was an entire coded message in Nabooian culture that he could not read. But there was something... something else...

"By we, of course, I mean the people of Naboo. But instead of a small statuette, as is traditional, I would like to propose an exchange - a sapling from the Tree of Peace from Theed, planted in the Jedi botanical gardens, and a seedling in return, to be planted in a plaza in a riviera city who wishes to thank Anakin Skywalker for his contribution in stopping the Blue Shadow Virus..."

He watched her as she spoke, the lips moving, the way her hands moved just so. Every little sweeping motion of the fingertips. The way her eyebrows twitched gently in thought.

"The ceremony would require minimal disruption at the Temple. An hour, at most. Of course, the city would also like you to be honored. The Mayor of Peran would like me to ask you perhaps what you would like your contribution to the plaza to be, as it is for all the heroes who helped prevent the Blue Shadow Virus outbreak. Myself, I have chosen a small water feature, but if you have a favourite plant, or similar..."

"You're not Padme."

He spoke clearly, and the words were out of his mouth as soon as he realized it. A small spark lit in his eyes again - something to finally pique his interest. She said nothing, merely staring him down for a long moment, expression inscrutable. Silently, she turned to a side table, picking up a beautifully cut crystal bottle full of some expensive, slightly opalescent liquor. In the sunlight, with her ornate dress, she almost glowed - ethereal yet earthly.

"I'm honestly surprised nobody has noticed sooner," she said smoothly, pouring one drink and then pouring another for herself. She offered one out to him, and he took it warily. There was something very long here. There was something that called for more than just the regular rote duty of a Jedi. "Well done, Master Kenobi. I trust that you will not share this information with anyone."

He leaned forward. "Who, exactly, are you? And what has happened to Padme?"

"That is none of your concern," she answered sweetly. "I can tell you that she is well cared for where she is. She is happy, healthy, and loved. That is all you need to know." Her back was turned to him as she talked, cutting off further questions. "There is a long tradition of the use of proxies in Nabooian government, so do not worry yourself over legal matters. As far as the Senate is concerned, I am Senator Padme Amidala, even if she is here in absentia."

But Obi-Wan had already raised his head, squinting like an old hound-dog who has caught scent of a fox after thinking his hunting days are long over. It was an itch, an anomaly. It was something that he had to chase and set right.

The liquor was pleasantly fruity and a tiny sip packed quite a punch, making his throat burn; she also took a sip before staring him down. He cleared his throat before speaking, something in his tone seeming to be more like himself instead of simply a nameless and faceless generic Jedi. "You realize I'm going to look for her, now."

"Oh, of course."

"And I will likely succeed."

"And I will try to prevent you every step of the way." She smiled benevolently at him. It was a very peaceful type of adversarial pact. They understood each other perfectly. And they toasted to it, glasses klinking together before Obi-Wan finished the shot of heady liquor and went back out into the city.

Parts of him he had tried to ignore were finally starting to breathe and stretch again. It was a question that demanded answers. Truthfully, the Jedi had no reason to ask about where Padme really was. It was legal and just in the eyes of the Republic. He had even been assured that she was happy and healthy. But something was out of place. He would poke and pry, trying to tease the truth out where he could. It was something that only he could do instead of just another Jedi. It was a taste of meaning.

His feet seemed to do the walking of their own accord, but this time instead of aimlessly wandering, he had a destination. Dex's Diner was just past its lunch rush, the waitresses busy clearing tables. But Dex himsef came out from the kitchen to greet Obi-Wan with a large hug. "Kenobi! You haven't been here in... in years! Come, sit down, have a cup of ardees and some beignets, I'll get them right out for you - but first." Dexter gestured widely before lowering his voice. "Come on, back here." He motioned to the kitchen, and Obi-Wan followed.

"I'm not that picky about how the beignets are cooked," he joked weekly, smiling somewhat.

"No, no, it's this. Had some courier come through. Strange attitude, Rattataki I think, came in all pomp and circumstance. He said to deliver this to you, by hand. He's on Coruscant. Said if you wanted him to take anything back, he'd check in with me every so often." Dexter pulled out a plainly wrapped package, and handed it to Obi-Wan. "Didn't say who it was from... he said you'd know."

He gently ripped open the plain paper, peeling it back to reveal what was underneath. The horn was beautiful, different stripes of brown in a magnificent banded symphony. It reminded him of how Asajj had told him one of a canyon, and how she could see the lines of different rock for miles. But it was more than just a gently curved horn from a beautiful animal. It was carved - holes down the middle, and a mouthpiece at top... a gemshorn, able to be played.

For a moment it looked as if Obi-Wan had been moved to tears, but he was very quiet, holding the package with a reverence that impressed Dexter in some base way. This went smoothly into something that was almost like panic as he dug around in his bag for something, anything to send back - his hand finally went to his throat, digging underneath his tunics to pull out a simple necklace. It was a flat, rough wooden charm on a leather cord. It had been a gift from Qui-Gon once, a reminder that beauty was in all things, even the most humble. He wore it in earnest after his Master's death, and it had become a habit - something done simply because it needed to be - the meaning forgotten. But now...

He pressed it into Dexter's palm. "Send this back with them. And... I think I'll take the beignets to go."

Later in the evening, a small, stumbling melody whispered through one of the dormitory halls in the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan had some pride in the fact he had an ear for music, but picking out the notes initially was difficult. But it was soothing. Soon it was something to do while his mind chewed on the problem of where Padme truly was. But eventually that melted away into the joy of playing the simple gemshorn. And he played Asajj a lovesong, knowing that she would never hear it, but the act itself was worth doing, soothing his spirit in some way he didn't understand.

For the first time in a very long while, Obi-Wan felt like himself again.


	18. Chapter 18

There were certain advantages to no longer existing.

Oh, she was flesh and blood, to be sure. But for these next few months she would be Parra Rinda, Agricorps member. It was surprisingly easy for a Cathar to find a new set of clothes, a new dye job of spots, and become an entirely different person. Who she was, exactly, was simultaneously completely irrelevant and crucial. It was a Jedi Shadow's job to snake her way into different situations, test, poke, prod, and determine what was a threat and what wasn't. Perhaps some before had called her underhanded, but if she could entrap a Jedi into betraying the Code and slipping into the Dark Side, she considered it to be an inevitability. She was merely the catalyst.

Rattatak hung outside the window as the ship came in for a landing, coming closer and closer until it became a firey blur of re-entry. As projects went, this would be a fortunately rather easy one. Observe, report. Perhaps actually do some proper Agricorps work for the struggling world. But mostly observe and take stock of the situation, because it needed to be done. This Asajj Ventress had to be monitored, after all.

The pilot, a weary-looking old cargo shipman, gestured out the window in one sweeping motion as they burst through the hazy clouds. "Welcome to Steadfast, Master Jedi."

It was a dusty gem of a city, framed by wheelspokes of green farms in the red sand. In the middle was a large spire which they slowly circled to slip into one of the main ports. It had once been Ventress' castle, but now it was the main governmental building in the center of the city. A blast of heat hit her face as she walked off the shuttle and slowly looked out at the view. The spire had been cut away from the rock, digging deeply into the earth in a giant trench around it. She could see someone hanging laundry out across the way: the city was cut into the quarry around the spire. At the very bottom, she could see the water covered over with farmed algae, pipes running up to irrigate the wheelspikes of the farms radiating out from the city. Although it was organized and obviously planned, it was also a city that was covered in dust, its inhabitants living in what most of Coruscant would consider to be intolerable poverty. But there was fresh water, steady supplies of food, and freedom from fear. It was the first time many had such luxuries, used to moving from place to place as Rattatak's traditional nomadic tribes battled each other for supremacy.

The old prophecies had told of a slave-born off-worlder who would unite the tribes and usher in a period of peace. They just didn't know that, in another time and place, that savior would be called Darth Vader, and peace would only come under Imperial rule. They were content to accept Asajj Ventress as their Queen.

Stepping off the ship and onto the platform, her nose twitched gently in the breeze. There was a clatter of mechanics rolling in and Parra immediately tensed and her hand went to her lightsaber. The fact that it was a droideka wheeling towards her didn't help matters. "No need for hostilities, please stand down," it chirped. "As per Protocol 510-A of the Coruscant-Rattatak Treaty, all hostile droids have been reprogrammed to Republic specifications." It was only when the droid unrolled into its walking position that she relaxed, able to clearly see where its guns had been removed and replaced with general-purpose grabbing pincers typical of a protocol droid.

"Ah, yes. Of course." Her lightsaber went back on her belt. "My apologies, old habits die hard. I suppose you are here to escort me to my audience with the Queen?"

"Yes, Master Jedi. I am DK-7, protocol and courier droid. If you like, you may call me Dekker." She hadn't remembered droidekas being so cheerful, but it was a welcome change from the war going on in the rest of the galaxy.

"Thank you, Dekker."

"This way, please, Master Jedi."

They came in through the old dungeons. Parra had read the report Master Kenobi wrote of escaping from this place after being tortured. In a way, Parra was somewhat indebted to Ventress: she tested Kenobi more thoroughly than Parra ever could have. Their blooming romance was so unexpected it made perfect sense. At least Kenobi had properly atoned. The dungeons seemed to have made a similar transformation. Now Parra was able to see that cells had become open spaces for cultural enrichment - classes in agriculture - with the occasional courtroom for civil and sensible justice instead of gladiatorial fighting to the death.

"...and to your left, you will see current classes on irrigation. Elevators are this way, please. Do you have any more questions, Master Jedi?"

The elevator's turbolifts whirred into life as the doors closed. She closely watched the snippets of she could see through the elevator windows as if this could give her any information. There were no flashes of the dark side floating through the usual miasma of the Force, there were no startling revelations of blood written on the walls. All was calm.

"And down this corridor is the throne room. I will show you to your quarters now, if you like, Master Jedi."

The walls were rather plain, letting the sandstone's natural beauty show, aside from the occasional pelt of some native animal, and her next course of action seemed very obvious. "No, thank you, Dekker. I think I'll meet with the Queen now."

"Her schedule is fully booked for several..." She strode past the droideka, not bothering to answer it. As if it was somewhat miffed by this, it tucked itself into its rolling state. "As you wish, Master Jedi."

Parra could hear the court talking as soon as she took a few steps forward. "...These water use rights have been our clan's for hundreds of generations! This is simply unfair to dedicate this percentage to this growing operation. We cannot dedicate this level of our resources..."

She was sitting on the throne - some sort of gift from one of the many warring tribes. It was an impressive thing, obviously carved from one solid log to make her look more intimidating, but she seemed to be actively negating this. While rulers of the Hapan Consortium thrived on pomp and it was hard to believe anyone from Naboo knew the definition of casualwear, she was dressed plainly. There were tears in her pants at the knees, as if she had been helping plant in the dirt. Even her jet-black hair was cropped in a utilitarian manner - but not shaved, although it was the main visual difference between her and her Rattataki subjects. The only decorative object were her jewels of state, a heavy mass of platinum-framed rough gemstones, an amalgamation from all the different tribes. Half of them weren't even polished, and the centerpiece - a cut slice of geode - was barely more than a trinket on most planets. But there was still a calm nobility about her, despite all of this.

"Jethan." She interrupted the chieftain's complaining. "There is no longer any your clan or my clan. We are all one clan. If you still think the people would be better off following you, by all means, lead them out into the desert. But I will provide for those who are my subjects. If you think the terms are unfair, bring it up with your fellow representatives in the House of Dreshirs."

"But my Queen -!"

"I am _not_ going to rob my subjects of due process, Dreshir Jethan. Appeal to them, not to me."

"_But -!_"

"You are dismissed." The crowd murmured, mostly approvingly, and Asajj looked up to catch a glance of Parra. "Ah, our visitor. Welcome."

She stepped forward, bowing lightly at the waist. "Master Parra Rinda of the Jedi Agricorps, at your service, Queen Ventress."

"For all of our sakes, I hope you know a bit of agriculture," Asajj remarked dryly.

Parra paused, raising one eyebrow very carefully. "Of course. I am in the Agricorps."

The Queen's blue gaze was unnerving, even with one side still covered by a practical and plain leather eyepatch. Perhaps Ventress was not as force-blind as they had assured Parra she was. "We both know that's not the case. You're here to make sure the former Sith acolyte doesn't return to her old ways."

A noticeable chill descended over the throne room as it was obvious the two were engaging in a battle of wits. Parra cocked her head to one side and attempted to look innocent. "I cannot say, Queen Ventress."

"I'm sure. Well, I must extend an immediate apology to you."

"An apology?" Parra's other eyebrow raised.

"Because this will likely be the most boring assignment you've ever had, and I am sure that you will soon be understandably frustrated at being stuck here when you could be on the front lines of some battle." A small chuckle came from some of the nobles and representatives in the room; apparently her dry humor was appreciated. "But. Just for your sake." She stood with a small grunt, dusting herself off. "I'm going to do something now which will be especially scandalous."

Both of Parra's ears pricked forward. "Oh?"

"I'm going to take my afternoon break for meditation an entire thirty minutes early."

Whatever response Parra could manage was drowned out by the clamor of those still waiting to see the Queen; the Cathar turned swiftly on her heel back out to the hallway.

"Shall I show you to your quarters, Master Jedi?" The droid Dekker chirped.

"Yes," Parra said. "Please."


	19. Chapter 19

Barriss Offee wasn't quite sure what had happened to bring them to this point.

Even though she was now a Jedi General, battle still made her uncomfortable. Her job was always after the battle was done, when wounds needed to be bound and healed. The idea of rehabilitatory patrols had been her idea. Bred and born to work, the clones were always restless when forced to recover in hospital beds. As soon as they were on their feet, they could be sent out in simple crews to patrol usually peaceful worlds. It was excellent for morale, and a practical part of their therapy. Barriss was quite proud of how well the program had turned out.

Nexu Company was one of the better ones she had been assigned to shepherd around. All of them worked well together, and all of them had similar injuries thanks to a missile blast to their transport on Geonosis. But the lake country of Naboo was pleasant for a simple patrol. There had been a few odd radio signals, and after the Blue Shadow Virus scare, Naboo was happy to have a truly Republic presence in the countryside, however briefly. A few days of camping, helping the soldiers learn to cope with their injuries, and pleasant scenery. Almost a vacation. Barriss had been looking forward to it for weeks.

...until the first shot.

The Council had not informed her about the mounting evidence against Palpatine, some of it pointing to a cache of secret Sith knowledge hidden on Naboo itself. Neither did she know that the Separatists were starting to splinter as Apprentice turned against Master in a desperate grab for power. All Barriss knew is that Nexu Company had suddenly been tossed into the middle of battle.

"Jex, Blu, get behind me -" Her lightsaber spun in front of her, and two clones, one of them limping, dove for cover. The lush plains of the lake country didn't provide much in the way of rocks or trees to hide behind, but there was at least a grassy hillock for the moment. "Grey!" She cried out as one of the troopers scrambling up the hill towards them went down.

"Zek's down too - " Barriss could almost hear the clone gritting his teeth in anxiousness as he looked to her for a command. "Orders, General?"

Two solid lines of super battle droids were marching towards them in lock-step. Barriss could hear her heart thudding in her ears. After working with Nexu Company for the last month, helping them recover as a unit, there was only one choice in her mind. A Jedi's life was about sacrifice. Perhaps her lightsaber would only be able to slice through a few of the droids with their thick plating, but it would at least buy the clones a bit of time. She took a deep breath, standing up -

And the first battle droid went down in a shower of sparks.

Barriss' eyes widened, while the clones watched in amazement, assigning the kill to some secret droid prowess. The droids themselves glanced side to side confusedly, and then another shot hit, going smoothly through three - head, chest, legs. Barriss ducked down behind cover once again as the droids started firing wildly into the air, trying to figure the trajectory of the shooter. It was just enough time for someone to line up another perfect shot.

"Sir - General Offee, sir -" Barriss nodded, showing that Blu had her attention. "Those are slugthrower rounds. Specialized armor-piercing ones. All of that type of munitions would have to be acquired through the Republic military."

"So there's one of ours out there?" She questioned in a whisper, and he nodded.

Another shot. The last two droids fell. Someone was being meticulous and precise. A shot that missed was completely out of the question: likely the shooter considered that it was a loss when he only hit one target instead of several. It was almost showy in its prowess.

Barriss gingerly stood, looking around warily as if she expected another shot coming for her. But the sniper was indeed on their side. "Blu, go see about Zek..." She paused a moment more before diving to go check on another one of the fallen clone troopers. "Grey?" He groaned when she shook his shoulder, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Injured, but still alive. One of the others paced forward, standing on top of the hillock to get a clearer view of the surrounding countryside, raising his binoculars. Reconniasance would be Jerjod's problem. Right now, her problem was Grey. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the Force flowing around him. Every injury was a tangle, and she could work on smoothing it. Right now it was enough to stop the bleeding, and keep Gray insulated from some of the pain.

The wind picked up once more. It was a pleasant day out in the lake country, and the view was stunning. An odd calm settled over the battlefield. Aside from the wounded soldiers and destroyed battle droids, it would have made a classic pastoral scene.

"Sir - I think I've found our sniper's nest."

She murmured a few words of comfort to Gray, even though the clone trooper was unconscious, before standing up. "That, in the distance? It's... a farmhouse?" Jerjod handed her his binoculars, and she squinted through them. A small pen in the backyard, a numa-house within it; vegetables planted in long straight rows; green fruit hanging on trees. There was even a small swingset - children lived there. The house itself was nestled securely in the gently rolling hills, but there was still the muzzle of a sniper rifle peeking out of one of the top windows. As soon as she found the dial to try and zoom in and identify whoever had helped them, they quickly drew back in the window, drawing the curtains and only leaving Barriss with a view of fluttering cloth.

"Think we can get the injured moved there?"

Jerjod nodded. "We can carry Gray and Zek. If you think it's safe, sir..."

"We need to have proper shelter for tonight," Barriss murmured, nodding. "At the very least. It'll be better to camp in their garden than out in the open, even if they don't have any room." She ran a tongue along her teeth in thought. There was something in the Force... almost a pull, drawing her towards the house. A bright point of light, a nexus of power. Completely unexpected in the middle of the quiet Naboo lake country.

"Help me bandage Grey's side, Jerjod. Then... we'll go meet our friendly sniper."


	20. Chapter 20

If Parra ever saw another yam, she would surely scream.

The Cathar was well-read. She was well-prepared. But despite the reading, she had been spending every night calling up Agricorps members for technical advice. Even if Ventress herself didn't believe that Parra Rinda was just an AgriCorps liaison, the rest of the people of Steadfast - and of Rattatak - depended on her to be one. Vanity was not a virtue a Jedi was supposed to have, but up until this assignment, Parra had always slightly sneered at Agricorps. Wash-outs who couldn't make it as a Jedi, shuffled off to try and be useful to somebody somewhere. In no way did they compare to a Jedi Shadow, tasked with rooting out corruption from within the ranks. Now she was starting to realize how much effort was required. She wondered if this was some intentional strategy on the Queen's part. Leave the Jedi hanging for a few weeks before agreeing to an official visit.

Even now, Asajj Ventress was late, though not intentionally so. The head table was distinctly regal, covered with a full spread, and still smelled delicious even though it was cooling by the time the Queen arrived. The Rattataki (or, rather, Dathomirian, according to Parra's sources) entered with shoulders slightly slumped. She was a strange regent, begrudging every instrument of state. Even now she seemed to be more burdened by the ornate dresses they expected a queen to wear than she was by the actual responsibility of ruling. "Master Rinda. Excuse my lateness." It wasn't an apology as much as it was a command as she shrugged off her heavy, jeweled outercoat, each embroidered panel representing one of the now-united tribes.

"Glad you could make it, Your Highness." Parra purred lightly, knitting her hands in front of her.

"If you're going to interrogate me, I suppose it might as well be over something pleasant, like dinner." She gestured widely over the table.

"It's a very interesting spread, Your Highness."

"Yes, it is." Already, Asajj was reaching over the table for a small roll of rough bread. Parra took this as a signal that it was fine to do the same, though she made sure her movements were much more graceful and delicate. "All of this is grown on-world. I made a promise to one of the tribe leaders that I wouldn't be dining on delicacies from off-world, so I eat what the people eat." She laughed darkly. "Nothing but yams the entire first year."

"No wine?" Parra asked curiously, sipping from an elegant glass and being somewhat surprised that it was full of water.

Asajj snorted. "We barely have enough to feed our people well, much less devote resources to turning the excess in to alcohol. Though I suppose you'll be pleased to know that some are talking about brewing a lager from the sweetest yam varieties."

"I see." The Cathar reached out to take a small piece of meat, laying it on her plate. "You'll forgive the observation, Your Highness, but you don't seem to be what most consider a typical queen."

"I don't aim to be a typical queen. Nor do I aim to be a tyrant." Asajj sighed before setting down her glass and staring Parra down directly.

Parra raised a paw, shaking her head. "I meant no disrespect, Your Highness."

"No, but you did mean to test my reaction. Let's cut to the core of the matter, shall we? No, I am not a typical queen. By the end of five years Rattatak will be a constitutional monarchy, and then the monarchy will be phased out completely. By the end of two years Rattatak will be eligible to join the Republic as a full member." She pinned Parra down with her light blue stare, ticking off each point on her fingers. "I am no longer a Sith. I do not want slaves and servants. I do not want all of these typical entrapment of office you seem to think I should be lusting for."

"And," she continued, voice going a little softer, "before you ask, I intend to keep my promise that I will be the last queen Rattatak ever has. You do not need to concern yourself with the possibility of my heirs. There will be none. Count Dooku made sure of that. It's considered bad form by Sith to have that sort of evidence around after torturing your apprentice."

Parra's hand curled into a defensive fist underneath the table as a chill grew in the air. The Cathar knew how evil the Sith were, and her mind filled in the bare minimum. Asajj's face remained calm and straight, near-impossibly so. Parra would never guess what Asajj was still the most angry about - Dooku's calm, professional air as he pinned her down, inflicting such horrors simply because it was an obscure Sith tradition and surefire way to fill your apprentice with useful hate. Parra would never know this. Some nights, Asajj herself denied knowing it.

And Asajj reached out to pick up a small container on the table. "If you haven't tried jershaa yet, you should. Wonderful local delicacy."

The Cathar silently prayed in thanks to the Force for the change of topic. "Oh, lovely. Thank you." The grey-brown paste was creamy and buttery, easily spreadable on the rough bread. "May I ask exactly what is in it? Certainly smells delicious..."

"Jeerbokk antelope brain and liver."

The knife, sticky with the grey-brown spread, hovered above her slice of bread. Cathar were notoriously carnivorous, but even Parra had limits. "Ah... thank you. It certainly sounds interesting." She smiled demurely. "Perhaps I'll try some later."

"Good." She straightened her dress lightly. "Now, if you're finished with this little question-and-answer section, perhaps we can move on to something actually important. Does Agricorps have any more information on the breed of miniature bantha that could acclimate to Rattatak's environment? The milk would be invaluable; Jeerbokk can only be domesticated for meat..."

Parra excused herself as soon as possible. The agricultural talk was exhausting, and there was still much more work to do. The droid Dekker was happy to be her eyes and ears. Even for all the machinations that she expected from a group of politicians, the court was surprisingly - and disappointingly - clean. It was cleaner than the Senate itself. Parra figured she would find more corruption on Naboo. She understood and accepted the signs, even if she was disappointed to not find something actually interesting.

What Parra didn't understand was Asajj's nightly ritual of pulling out a worn, simple drum and tapping out an elaborate rhythm. She did not know it was accompaniment to a gemshorn many planets away.


	21. Chapter 21

"Thank you again. I promise we'll be out of your home as soon as possible - we can even camp outside in the garden tonight -"

"Oh, no, no." Their hostess smiled graciously at Barriss Offee, putting her hands up. "I wouldn't dream of it. Please, our home is yours."

Barriss gave a small sigh as she smiled. As far as disasters went, this wasn't as terrible as it first seemed. Nexu Company, with their various injuries, had sprawled out in the house's living room. Truthfully, it had been a blur of bacta patches, contacting command, and making sure that all of the clone troopers she was responsible for were doing well. Zek was still unconscious, laying out on the couch. Grey was up but groggy, rubbing his temples to try and massage away his headache. The others had managed to make themselves comfortable, nursing bruises and burns, but were otherwise going to be fine. It was the first pause Barriss had to really take a few deep breaths and clear her head instead of worrying about the injuries of all the troops.

"I'm so sorry," she said with an apologetic smile. "I don't think I caught your name -" Barriss paused to squint at the other woman. "You do look rather familiar, I'm sorry, have we already met?"

"We might have," the other woman said graciously. "I was one of Padme Amidala's handmaidens. Retired, now. Este Naberrie - it's good to meet you."

There was a slight pause before her name, and Barriss was able to catch it, though at that moment she didn't think much of it. "Barriss Offee, and this is Nexu Company..." She craned her head to catch a glimpse of a small figure clutching to Naberrie's legs, hidden behind her skirt. "And who's this?"

"Oh - this is Leia. Her brother Luke is around here somewhere." She smiled flusteredly, and Barriss quietly noted that there was no mention of the childrens' father. Best not to push it. "They won't be in your way for long, I was just about to fix some dinner and take it upstairs so they can eat up there. There's almost an entire roast Numa, and other leftovers -"

"We'll be fine with prepackaged meals, I'm sure -"

"It would be my honor. Please, your men have been through enough, they deserve a homecooked meal. Even if it's just leftovers. And it's the least I can do to help as a Republic citi-" Her eyes drifted over to the living room and she gave a small gasping squeak. "LUKE!"

Barriss whirled around to see that the little blonde-haired boy had gone to sit among the troopers. Grey had plopped his helm onto the boy's shoulders, making it look comically oversized; Luke himself was giggling away as if this was a fantastic joke. That was almost adorable. The fact that Grey had placed his carbine in the child's hands wasn't so adorable. "Look at 'im, what a little trooper. He's a natural," Grey gushed.

Mrs. Naberrie managed to be graceful even when flailing madly to go grab her child, nearly tossing the carbine across the room while simultaneously snatching up Luke into her arms. Barriss winced. "_Grey!_"

"All the safeties were on, ma'am, I swear!"

"I know you have a concussion, I didn't know it was _that_ bad," Barriss fussed, shaking her head. "Mrs. Naberrie, I'm so sorry..."

"It's fine! It's fine. I just - I'm not quite ready to see my son playing with guns." She laughed nervously, holding Luke close and helping him take off the oversized helmet. "We'll get out of your way." As she turned to open the pantry, pulling out a tray with one hand and still keeping Luke at her hip with her other arm. Luke half-whiningly asked her something that Barriss didn't catch, and she shushed him. "Sshh. We'll talk about that upstairs, okay? Just not here." It was a whisper that others wouldn't have been able to catch, but Barriss did.

There was something... off. Something strange. Jedi didn't have hunches - they had the Force. But Barriss definitely had a hunch that there was something going on that she couldn't see. This was only reinforced when she saw Mrs. Naberrie piling food onto her plate. Although she settled for cold leftovers, she doled out enough food for the children and at least two adults. It made Barriss' eyes narrow in thought, enough for Mrs. Naberrie to catch; she gave a small laugh. "Sorry. Running after these two is hungry work," she teased, bouncing Luke on her hip and making him giggle. "I'll just put some of this back, so all of you have enough." Barriss didn't catch the worried grimace that crossed her face once she turned away, thinking of how she was going to have to go hungry tonight to make sure Anakin had enough to eat.

Barriss could tell that she was well-versed in the art of duplicity. She was a handmaiden - of course she had been trained. But caught so off-guard, the cracks were starting to show. Barriss was normally not one to be prying and curious. She left pushy maneuvers to Ahsoka, who was admittedly much better at them. But there was still something...

There was a sharp groan from the other end of the wide, joined room, and Barriss turned. "Ma'am? Jak's coming 'round..."

It was enough of a distraction to keep her full attention right until Mrs. Naberrie was upstairs. In fact, it was mostly clouding her mind even as she delicately climbed the stairs. If she could find a few more bacta-infused bandages, or some painkillers... there was only so much she could do in the Force before becoming exhausted. It was hard work to stretch out through the Force, find where life had been full of tangles and snags and straighten it out so that it flowed smoothly. She hated to see her men in pain, and there was no shame in turning to medication. It was just that they had run out. Surely Mrs. Naberrie had some upstairs. It was a lovely house, spacious with a wide corridor, and the stairs didn't creak even as Barriss snuck up them. There was the distant sound down the hall of some children's vid that was likely keeping the twins momentarily entertained. But a sliver of light came from an open door - the master bedroom, it had to be. She could see a glimpse of the wide bay window that had been turned into a sniper's nest.

And the sniper's nest was occupied by a man. A very familiar-looking one.

Barriss drew in a quick, sharp breath and pressed herself against the wall, trying to see yet not be seen. Mrs. Naberrie pulled gently on the man's shoulder. "Please, Anakin. It's sunset..."

"There's night-vision scopes. Someone has to keep watch." His voice was hoarse and exhausted, but Barriss recognized it, hairs on the back of her neck standing up. "If there's another attack..."

"If there's another attack, there's an entire squad of troopers downstairs, and the automated security systems." She rubbed at his back as she tried to pull him away. "Please. You need to rest."

Barriss saw how he hung his head, obviously exhausted. She did not know how Anakin had been having a rough few days even before this. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was simply sitting there, surrounded by spent shell casings and the impressive-looking slugthrower sniper rifle (with a few blaster rifles for good measure). Barriss could feel his pain through the Force, though it was obvious enough in his body language. Slumped shoulders, dark circles underneath his eyes, labored breathing. His wife's hand worked in gentle circles on his back, soothing him as best she could. Eventually it seemed to work, and as she kissed his cheek, he nuzzled into the touch. "Fine. Just for a little while. They'll probably attack at third watch, anyway, if they're going to..."

"Then I'll take third and forth watch." She guided him up with another kiss, and Barriss could finally see his face. Yes, he was thinner, gaunt in a way that reinforced his ongoing battle with sickness, but there was still the distinct scar over one eye. Anakin Skywalker. _This was Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala._ It clicked into place so suddenly that Barriss wondered why she hadn't placed them before. Of course she had listened to the gossip, but after Anakin's death, it was considered rude (at best) to speak ill of the dead. But now was not the time to figure out what to do with this revelation. Now it was time to stay back, gather more data, and be calm. Ahsoka was always teasing her about being the rational one, after all.

He staggered, barely able to walk on his own, and she guided him to the bed. Barriss heard his muttered further protests, but they didn't seem to go very far; soon he was content to let her soothe him, her hands running through his hair as he slowly relaxed. Barriss knew she should likely look away from such a moment of simple intimacy, but she found herself unable to do so. She was not angry or bitter or even jealous. She just became acutely aware of a sense of loss. There was something that she would never have, or was never supposed to have, as a Jedi. It was beautiful and delicate and sincere. Barriss still knew the intelligent arguments of why a Jedi should not become romantically attached. But now that such a connection had been formed, the thought of anything damaging it was horrific.

"You should eat a little something..."

"I'm fine -"

"Ani, we both know those nutrition bars barely count. They're disgusting, anyway. And you've been pushing yourself too hard. You need some sort of pain medication..."

"Maybe half a dose," he conceded. Barriss saw the shock on Padme's face: it was rare for him to acquiesce so quickly. But he was already starting to relax as Padme sweetly ran her fingers through his hair.

"Think you can stay awake to eat a bowl of noodle soup?"

"Mmn. It's likely."

"Good." She leaned in to kiss him softly - then a pause, and a deeper kiss. "I'll be back with that, then. I'll just... I'll tell them downstairs that Luke didn't like his sandwich, or something. Be back soon."

Barriss finally flinched away, skittering back. There would be no graceful way to admit to eavesdropping. Instead she went to stand by the stairs as if she had just come up them, calling out: "Mrs. Naberrie?"

Padme jumped but put on her best smile, even as she noticeably paled. "Oh - Master Offee. What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you had a few more bacta bandages..."

"Oh, yes, of course. They're downstairs." Padme wore a smile that was too perfect to actually conceal her panic. "If you'll just come with me, I'll show you..." She waited until they were walking down the stairs, unable to look Barriss in the face. "Master Jedi, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"Hypothetically speaking..." She was carefully choosing her words in a way very like a politician. "Would a Jedi such as yourself find that she is... beholden to return a Jedi to Coruscant in all circumstances, even if he is content in the life he has made for himself? Even if innocents would dearly miss him, and if it means breaking up a family?"

Barriss knew that tone of voice. It was very polite, but there was an edge that she could easily identify. _If you try to take my family from me,_ it said, _I will hurt you. Don't make me kill you. Please don't make me kill you._

She reached out to lightly brush a hand against Padme's shoulder as they watched the bottom step, a small physical touch to interrupt her. "Well, hypothetically, it is up to an individual Jedi's sense of moral obligation. The council would likely demand to be informed, but information could always be conveniently forgotten." Padme didn't make eye contact with her again until she turned to hand over another small package of small bacta bandages.

"However, nothing here that warrants a mention to anyone when it would come at the cost of interrupting the well-deserved retirements of two of the Republic's tireless servants. And since we are just speaking in hypotheticals..." Barriss smiled at Padme, locking eyes with her. "I'm glad I'll never have to answer that question of what I would do, Mrs. Naberrie, because I've seen absolutely nothing."

Padme closed her eyes, letting a soft sigh roll out of her. The 'thank you' she gave was so small it wasn't even a whisper, merely mouthing the words. Barriss bowed politely, wished her a good evening, and let her get to finding the noodle soup in the kitchen.

Nexu Company had to stay one more day to recuperate, but it passed without incident. The twins did venture in to talk to some of the clones in a way that suggested to Barriss that they didn't have much in the way of physical contact with outsiders - not unusual, really, this far in lake country; many of the farmers' children attended virtual schools by holo, and she assumed Luke and Leia did as well. A frigid edge had come off of the forced politeness, making it genuine. It was a wholly unremarkable trip.

The morning they set off again, Barriss did wait until they had slowly marched to the top of the next hill, pausing their hike to a pickup point. "Nexu Company." Her serious tone of voice caused them all to stand up straight at attention. "I rarely give specific orders, especially specific orders of this sort of gravity. But in your official reports... never mention the family that lives there," she said softly, pointing to the house. "Say that the building was abandoned, and we took shelter there. Understood?"

She expected a few more questions or odd looks. Part of her was still very uneasy with how easily the clones accepted this order. But no more was said of it.

Not until the Tarisian Blitz.


	22. Chapter 22

Taris had risen from the ashes more times than even seemed possible. Now it seemed that the swampy city-planet would be reduced to rubble once more. As selfish as it was, Ahsoka was relieved to finally be back in the field. Yes, they were merely checking old lines to make sure they had not been breached, and yes, she was technically leading a unit alongside Barriss Offee of wounded soldiers easing their way back into combat. The main fierce firefights were going on above them, just around Taris in surrounding space. Despite the quiet patrol, it still felt good to be back.

The Jedi Temple was stifling in its own way, even if she was relieved to see Obi-Wan snap out of being a mindless automaton. If anything he seemed to go completely the other way. But he was so quiet in his mania, and it was such a relief to see him enthusiastic about living, nobody seemed to object. Not even when he started mumbling about conspiracies. It was nearly endearing… in a certain way. But while it assuaged her guilt, she still was anxious to be out and useful.

Nexu Company was quickly growing on her. All of them were veterans, and they understood perfectly when she had to stop and rest a moment to catch her breath.

As they reached a long marshy stretch, walls crumbling from Taris' last round of destruction and thickly overgrown with weeds, Barriss looked up. She held perfectly still, as if she were a hunting dog that had caught wind of some prey. "Halt." She held up a hand, and all of the troops behind her obediently stopped. "Something's wrong here. Very… wrong." She bit her lip a moment before looking to Ahsoka. "Do you feel it?"

Ahsoka could feel nothing. Perhaps the barest blush of something beyond her senses. But there was no overwhelming danger. Not after the attack that had left her nearly severed from the Force. But she immediately lied to save face. "Yes. Only… only a little, though." It was a weak attempt to backpedal out of the lie, and she quickly looked away from Barriss to her map. "This is where the Endar Spire is said to have crashed. We might just be feeling some residual… something from Revan's influence."

Barriss shook her head, frowning. "No, that can't be it. By then the Revanchist had turned to the Light, or had at least abandoned the Dark. You know as well as I do."

"General Offee, sir," one of the troops said immediately. "Permission to move ahead? I've always wanted to pay my respects to the troopers of the Republic's golden days, sir."

Barriss shifted from foot to foot, swaying in residual anxiousness. One could just barely make out the plastisteel bones of the old warship where the swampy ground and plants had been eager to swallow them whole. It was still a jagged arena of wreckage with far too many dark corners for her taste… the perfect place for an ambush. But if Ahsoka didn't feel such a strong warning in the Force… well… "You're probably right, Ahsoka. It's fine, Teth, let's go ahead and move out." The clone nodded, moving ahead of her at an easy, ambling pace. Instead of moving in strict formation, they fanned out somewhat, each of the clones mesmerized by the remains of the old Republic's splendor. In the distance some swamp-birds trilled and bugs steadily hummed around them.

And then the world exploded.

Ahsoka screamed instinctively as the landmine went off underneath Barriss' feet. The droids that had been patiently waiting to trigger it busily poured from the blind alleys and crevices and it seemed in an instant the air was thick with blaster bolts. Nexu Company was prepared to easily take down the ambush, the clones diving for cover. It left Ahsoka to run to Barriss.

"Oh Force - __Barriss__!" Ahsoka's head swam as she clumsily fished for the bacta patches on her belt. It was already quite clear it would be useless. More than a bacta patch would be needed when it seemed half of her friend was spread in bits and pieces up to fifty paces away. But she still reached out to lift Barriss' head even as her friend spluttered on blood and tried to gasp. "Don't - oh, Force - please - you're going to be fine, you're going to be just fine - !"

Barriss' blue eyes were wide in panic. "Ahsoka - forgive me -"

"F-forgive you? There's nothing you've done, you just - just keep breathing, okay -"

"Lied to you," Barriss gasped out with bloodflecked lips.

Ahsoka shook her head flusteredly. "No, no, I'm sure it's fine, look, you can tell me all about it in the Halls of Healing back on Coruscant -"

Barriss drew in a long, ragged, rattling breath. Her eyes were pleading and glossy with half-formed tears, and she desperately reached up to Ahsoka with a mangled and bloodied hand.

"S… __Skywalker lives__."

Ahsoka was stunned into numb silence the very moment Barriss gave a long, wheezing exhale, her last breath finally escaping her. A younger Ahsoka would have desperately shouted questions, but she was older and wiser now. She kept quiet. Other Jedi simply assumed it was grief. Perhaps it was. It meant fewer questions. A week later as she watched Barriss' body going up in flames on a traditional Jedi pyre, Ahsoka finally found the answer she was looking for, and knew what to do.

Obi-Wan had politely approached her the next day, and she greeted him with a smile. "I came back to Coruscant as soon as I heard, Ahsoka…"

"No, it's fine." She took a deep, calming breath. "There is no death, there is only the Force. …have you found anything?" Ahsoka tolerated Obi-Wan's abrupt new obsession, and perhaps tacitly encouraged it, but this was the first time her interest had been anything more than lukewarm.

"Just another dead end," he replied, caught slightly off guard. "Why do you ask?"

Smiling, Ahsoka slipped a datapad onto the table. "An assignment came up that I thought you would be perfectly suited for. Master Quinlan Vos agreed with me. We may have… pulled a few strings and called in a few favors," she said softly. "But I think you'll appreciate it."

Obi-Wan frowned in momentary confusion before glancing over the datapad. A low-level assignment with minimal risk for a Jedi to be stationed on Rattatak, to help guide the formation of a Republic-sanctioned democratic government… and to monitor the activities of ex-Sith Queen Asajj Ventress. It was as close as Obi-Wan would ever get to an official blessing. It was a tacit mark of approval. Ahsoka was telling him to go and be happy.

He stared for a few moments, giving a solid gulp as if tears of joy were threatening to sneak up on him. But he raised his head, lips pursing, about to ask a question.

"Don't worry," Ahsoka soothed. "I'll look after your research on finding Padme Amidala. And I'll sort through all the other leads for you, even send you updates if you like. I know you wouldn't let the matter rest, so I won't, either."

Obi-Wan was so momentarily giddy that he did not see the selfish glint in Ahsoka's eyes. After all, the togruta was a Jedi in her own right now, and clever as well. She was smart.

…and Ahsoka knew that wherever she found Padme, she would find Anakin.


End file.
